


Sweet Summer Sweat

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired by Music, Lemon, M/M, Out of Character, Romance, Yaoi, by FancyFigures, dark-ness/eerie-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by FancyFigures--The runaways are leaving the Life they hate. But are they prepared for the Life they find in its place? There are more kinds of Heat than the sun; more kinds of Pleasure than Escape. And a destination that may or may not be their final one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> This is based on a well-known song (Hotel California), as many of you may spot - but not a songfic in itself.

The heat was climbing higher than ever, and inside the car it was almost intolerable. The air conditioning wheezed and coughed, but provided no air at all; a haze of hot air blew back from the engine periodically, stifling the driver and passenger. They'd had to take whatever car was left at the back street sales place - their money didn't stretch to anything else. And it was pretty obvious that this one had been left because no other goddamn fool would ever consider using it for anything except housing chickens. It shuddered over the track - it spat venom out of the exhaust. It threatened every fifteen minutes to stop and leave them wherever it chose; they could believe it was that malevolent.  
  
"There's nowhere for miles," hissed the young, dark-haired passenger, twisting a map viciously in his hands. "Where did you say we had to take that turning?"  
  
"God knows," the driver snapped back. He was of a similar age; a trail of sweat trickled down from under his long, chestnut fringe, sadly limp on his forehead from the heat. "We must stop soon - I'm exhausted. This track is like driving through lumpy treacle. My head feels like a lead weight - I can't focus properly in this glare -"  
  
"Shit, don't give up now, Trowa!" cried the other man. "It's almost dusk now - the temperature's bound to go down then. And we'll find a motel or something to stay the night."  
  
"Heero..." sighed Trowa. He shook his head, made a frustrated noise. But he continued to lean forward over the wheel, now burning slightly into his hands, peering out into the hazy distance to find some landmark or other.  
  
"Are we lost?"  
  
Trowa didn't grace him with a reply. Of course they were bloody lost! Neither of them had ever been this far out of state; never imagined this part of the desert highway. The last town they'd passed had consisted of nothing but a couple of small, shack-lined streets. And since then, there'd been nothing. There _should_ have been the road to a city. The road to their future. But then, there should have been a lot of things to this journey; things they'd promised themselves; things they'd hoped for; planned for...  
  
Things that weren't materialising any time soon, as far as he could tell. He felt rather bitter. Bitter, exhausted, and a little scared that it had all been a bit of a mistake. He couldn't say it aloud. Heero mustn't know. He'd been the one to persuade Heero to come with him in the first place...  
  
The next five miles were tedious; hot, sweaty, and filled with a bunch of assorted tensions. The light in the crimson sky faded to a darker burgundy, as the day slid towards night; a slight wind teased at the sides of the car as it rattled on. The temperature eased, but only a drop of maybe one or two degrees, so that there was little effect on their damp, tired journey. Neither spoke for a long while. Trowa brushed the salty beads of sweat out of his eyes more than once; Heero growled at the map, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
"Is that something up ahead?" said Heero, suddenly, craning forward in his seat. The car's headlights were another disappointment; a thin, pale light jerked up and down in front of their progress, giving little help to visibility. The car gave a particularly vicious hiccup, and his head nearly crashed on the windscreen. "Damn it, be careful, Trow!"  
  
"Like I have any control over this blasted machine -" hissed his companion. But he peered ahead as well. "It may be a house, or something..."  
  
"Stop the car!" called Heero. "Let's get our bearings. I think it's more than a house - praps it's a motel or something."  
  
"This crock may never start again," warned Trowa. His hands were cramping on the wheel - he'd like nothing more than to stop. But he felt he had to regain some control of this fiasco. He'd given Heero the responsibility of navigation, and look where that had got them -  
  
"Who cares?" Heero was shaking his head, and allowing a grin to split his tired face. "I reckon we could walk from here, anyway. Look, it is something! Looks like a motel, all right. It ain't big - but they must be able to put us up until tomorrow. God, I just want something to eat that isn't potato chips, and a cold drink, and a bath -"  
  
"And sleep," sighed Trowa. "Sleep, please. For hours."  
  
"Thinking of bed?" said Heero, a little shyly. "I mean, just say the word, we could share a room, and you could come wash my back in that bath -"  
  
"Just sleep!" repeated Trowa, firmly. The car shuddered to a halt. The noise around them fell immediately to nothing but the hiss of the overheating engine, and the whisper of sand and stones on the track. He thought he'd probably sounded too sharp to Heero, but that's the way he felt at the moment. Heero would have to understand that...  
  
But he knew from the clipped silence beside him that he'd misjudged things again. It was so rare for Heero to make any advance; to offer any sexual banter. He was the more restrained of them in that; he still felt inhibited about it all. And now he, Trowa, had slapped him down, just because of this damned heat, and this damned heap of crap of a car, and this damned ache in his head that was going to shoot ball bearings out of his forehead before they reached the motel -  
  
"Let's go see, then, OK?"  
  
There was silence from his passenger, and Trowa sighed. He cranked up the ignition, and the car hiccupped into life again. Just one more mile, it sneered at them. And that's your bloody lot! It lurched away up the craggy track, staggering towards the horizon, and the thin, dark shadow that was gradually growing larger as they approached. A low, dark building, set back a way from the road. A narrow, wooden fence all around it. A tired, illegible sign, creaking with the slightest breath of wind. A corridor out to the side, looking for all the world like a row of motel rooms. The darkening evening and the fickle lights of the car made the shadows leap and stretch alongside the structures.  
  
"Heaven..." breathed Heero, with a thin laugh.  
  
"Maybe..." murmured Trowa.  
  
*  
  
Trowa drove the car into the front yard, a small cloud of dust rising around the wheels as he braked sharply. There were no other cars there. There was no movement at all, either inside or out. The front door appeared to be open, but there was no light from inside. They peeled themselves out of the car, their patches of exposed skin sticking either to their clothes or to the flaky, plastic car seating. Or both. Heero cursed, as his tee shirt ripped at the sleeve.  
  
"Fucking car -"  
  
Trowa winced at the expletive. But today - well, today was getting on everyone's nerves, wasn't it? It was the heat...that's why he felt the coil of irritation flare in the pit of his stomach. That's why he wanted to snap back at Heero, to watch his tongue, and just get over it!  
  
They both leaned back against the side of the car that was nearest. They were reluctant to go straight in - neither could have said why. Trowa flexed his stiff fingers; cricked the bones in his tense neck. Then he turned and leant his arms on top of the car, gazing over at Heero. He was turned to the side, and Trowa could only see his profile. It was a sight that fascinated him.  
  
Heero's face. His familiar face. His scowl. Trowa's gaze ran over the dark, hooded eyes, and down to the lush mouth, currently pursed in annoyance. There was the shine of sweat under the young man's nose and lip; threads of hair shadowed on his long neck. And Trowa's irritation settled, and melted a little.  
  
Heero... the man he dreamed about. The man that made his heart pump, and his groin ache. He laughed inside at his lustful thoughts; there was a time and place, surely...  
  
"You look good, Heero, you know that?"  
  
"Huh?" growled Heero. He didn't move his head to look back over the car, but a blush rose high on his cheekbones. It was visible, even in the fading light. "Like, sweat becomes me?" He was gruff, but Trowa thought that he was secretly pleased at the attention.  
  
The chestnut-haired man didn't answer - his eyes did it for him. They ranged over the smooth, flushed skin of his passenger; the thick, scrappy locks of hair that clung to his forehead like they were pasted there. The dark patch spreading over the front of his thin vest; the sultry shine of sweat on his muscled upper arms. Trowa remembered the day they met; he remembered their first touch. He remembered why they were here, and his body shivered with imprinted delight.  
  
Heero finally looked up sideways from under damp lashes. He swept the hair on his forehead back, almost as a challenge. His underarms were slippery - he felt a thread of moisture run back up from his wrist to his elbow. And he knew Trowa was watching him, greedily. He could see the way that the man's eyes narrowed - the way his breath was shallower than before. His slim frame pushed itself away from the car roof, and then he was walking round the boot of the car to stand beside Heero.  
  
Trowa was a couple of inches taller than him. When he gazed at him, it was as if he looked down on him. It was a fond look - but sometimes Heero felt that the expression was more than physical. Trowa had organised the whole of this trip. Their _flight_. Trowa had always been the one to call the shots.  
  
But he was irresistible, wasn't he? "You smell _hot_ , Trowa!"  
  
"Yeah, right!" The man's soft, low laugh was rich with their shared desire. "Perhaps I'll smell better after that bath you're offering." His eyes were lingering on Heero's mouth; his fingers brushed lightly against his hip.  
  
"Trowa..."  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
Heero shook his head impatiently, as if he scorned the words he was struggling to express. "I - I want things to be good, now. Y'know? They will be, won't they?"  
  
"They will be," Trowa reassured him. As he had many times, since they left their hometown, a week ago. He leant gently against Heero, the sigh of his tired, creased shirt whispering against hidden muscles. He dipped his mouth down to Heero's.  
  
But Heero turned his head away. "Not here, Trow. Don't touch me out here."  
  
Trowa stilled. He straightened up, slowly. "Why not? It's nearly dark... no-one to see us..." His breath hitched, and his next words were a little tight. "Isn't that why we ran in the first place, Heero? Are you regretting it now?"  
  
"No, of course not!" Heero snapped back. His voice was sharp, but there was a flare of distress in his eyes. "Never! Don't ever think that! I'm just -"  
  
"Hush..." murmured Trowa. "We'll take it slow, OK? Just kiss me then, just that... Don't I deserve that, for the intrepid trek across the desert sandstorms?"  
  
Heero smiled, then. Smiled at the pathetic joke; smiled at Trowa's plaintive need. Smiled at the thought of the slender, smooth body that would hopefully lie beside him tonight. This whole trip had given him too much time to think - to brood. _Of course_ things were gonna be OK.  
  
"You're all fulla wind, Barton. Like your damned desert, eh? Come here, then..."  
  
For a while, their heads were close together, their hands clasping their waists tight. The kiss was slow and deep, and hot, both with the temperature outside and the flickering physical response of their bodies. Heero relaxed slowly against his lover, his tongue teasing inside the other man's eager mouth. Trowa felt his body leap with anticipation as a knee pressed gently and tantalisingly against his thigh. He leaned back against the warm metal of the car door, savouring the mixture of sensations.  
  
"It's gonna be all right," murmured Trowa, as he broke for air at last, his lips numb with the pressure of Heero's. His mouth tasted dust, and sun and another person's essence. "Gonna be our chance of freedom, Heero..."  
  
Heero pulled away, but the mischievous grin was back on his tanned face. Some of his moods were stormy, but they passed like tumbleweed. "And I'm not gonna spend another night of it in that car! You ready to go in, then? See if there's anyone there - if there's a couple of rooms..."  
  
"Or just one," murmured Trowa. He saw Heero's sharp, sudden smile. He thought he was forgiven for his earlier harshness. The thought of tasting Heero's forgiveness brought an ache to his groin that battled unsuccessfully with the damp clinging of his pants.  
  
*  
  
Trowa dragged their bag out of the trunk, and turned to find the entrance. Heero was already walking over towards it. Then he stopped.  
  
There was the slightest shimmer of light in the darkened doorway; moving gently and erratically, as if on the back of a moth. And yet it was more than a firefly. Heero stared. He felt his heart beating a little faster. He wondered why he'd never considered their vulnerability out here - no other people or habitation for miles; no idea of who or what may be living here. And he and his companion, just walking in with their life's belongings, expecting welcome, and civilisation, and 21st century services...  
  
He held a hand out behind him, as if to warn Trowa.  
  
He hadn't seen them, but there were long, thin wind chimes in the doorway; he knew that, because he heard them now, tinkling as if in the wind. There was no other sound but that. When Trowa dropped the bag on the ground behind him, he jumped.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
There was a darkness in the doorway that was of a different texture - it shifted slightly, and slowly it became the silhouette of a person. A young man, it seemed. A young man, holding a candle in an old-fashioned holder. Heero felt the beats of his heart through his clammy skin.  
  
"Hey," murmured Trowa, in his ear. "He's no Bram Stoker, OK? Just a guy... we need someone to put us up, right?"  
  
He shifted the bag back up on to his shoulder, and walked right past the frozen Heero. "Hi! Are you open? Do you have a room for us? Just the night..."  
  
Heero heard Trowa's words, but as if they were enclosed behind glass, or thick fabric. Muffled. And yet the rest of his hearing was more crystal-clear than he'd ever known. He heard the man's footsteps on the tiles of the step; heard the flame of the candle crackling. It had to be imagination, of course. He smelled a thick, citrus fragrance, as if someone were preparing fresh juice. He felt the weight of the man's eyes on him, as if he had actually touched his skin.  
  
And then the man stepped out into view, and the spell was broken. He was young indeed, probably only just out of his teens. Blond, boyishly short hair; bright blue eyes. He was shorter than they, dressed in a thin, casual shirt, buttoned only once at its hem, and open on his hairless chest. He wore denim shorts, low on his waist, and cut high on his thighs, with the fringed edge of cut-offs. His legs looked good, stretching out of them; slim, muscled thighs. Heero thought it looked as if he'd only just thrown them on, to come to the door. Perhaps he'd been sleeping.  
  
He moved to greet Trowa, and to take the bag. "Hi! Yes, of course we've got your room ready. Sorry if we don't seem very alert tonight. The winds last week brought the power cables down, and we're still trying to get the emergency generator to settle down. It comes and goes at its own whim. Bet you thought we looked like some kinda ghost house, eh?" His laugh was smooth, and soft, and it sang like the wind chimes. Heero saw Trowa smile broadly in response; he was surprised to see it. It was rare for his lover to be instantly sociable like that, with strangers.  
  
He wondered briefly how many other surprises there might be, now that their circumstances had changed so drastically.  
  
"Come on in," smiled the boy to them both, but he turned his eyes to Heero. Heero bit back the gasp that tried to escape him; his senses were collapsing around him, telescoping into a narrowing channel in front of his eyes, sucking life from his limbs, drawing him down into a dark, stifling tunnel...  
  
He was aware of Trowa beside him, but it was the boy's arm that was round his waist, holding him upright still. Their baggage had been dropped at his feet; he'd caught Heero as he slumped forward. "You oughtta come in out of the heat, now. It gets people that way, sometimes. You're exhausted, and you look hungry. I've got supper on now."  
  
'He hasn't eaten much all day," came Trowa's worried voice. "But whatever you're cooking tonight, it smells delicious. Is that goulash? With coriander, I think..."  
  
Heero heard the conversation through his aching ears, blood still throbbing through his head. What did Trowa mean? _He_ couldn't smell any food cooking. All _he_ could smell was the tang of citrus - the floral, fruity aroma that seemed only to get stronger. A smell he'd always loved...  
  
Trowa took the candle, and the boy hoisted Heero's arm up on to his shoulders, supporting most of his weight. He was deceptively strong. He looked around Heero's bent head, and smiled at Trowa. 'You enjoy your food, I can see! And you've a nose for cooking, too - you're right about tonight's dish."  
  
"It's my favourite," said Trowa, a little embarrassed.  
  
"I know," the boy smiled back. His eyes flashed, bright pinpoints of reflection in the dark. He turned, and led Heero carefully into the building.  
  
What a strange thing to say! thought Trowa. He paused for that moment, caught between the need to look after Heero, and the confusion about their host. He saw the boy's pale, bare legs striding across the yard, his blond head at the height of Heero's dusky neck; his shirt hitched up under Heero's arm, as he guided the dark-haired man inside. He wore no vest underneath; the thin fabric was scarcely generous enough to cover his torso to start with. His young, smooth skin shone dully in the shaky candlelight.  
  
How could the boy know that about him?  
  
And why had he allowed a complete stranger to tend to his own lover? Why wasn't Heero supported across _his_ shoulders?  
  
He roused himself, knowing that the important issue was to find somewhere to rest for the night. The rest was nonsense, of course. He was a pragmatic man, everyone knew that. He picked up their neglected bag, clutched the candlestick securely, and followed them in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero sat on a bench in the hall, casting a quick look around him. Inside the building was as dark as outside - but there were several candles lit in here, so that he could see where he was. The floor was uncovered boards; the windows had only shutters, no drapes. Everything appeared to have been furnished with the bare minimum. There was little other furniture except for a large, old-fashioned desk with pigeonhole shelves on the wall behind it, and a closed ledger book resting on its top. There was one other bare wooden chair, and a standing box with a single abandoned umbrella in it. He saw a door off the hallway that would lead to the closed walkway of guest rooms, and a door that led to the dining room - he peered in, to see a few, disparate tables set with off-white cloths, and similar chairs scattered around them. There was no sign of the tables being laid for a meal; no sign of any other guests.   
  
Heero thought he may have heard some noises from beyond the dining room, where the kitchen must be. But no evidence of a meal being prepared; no aroma of baking, or food cooking. Just the smell of sharp fruit, and a heavy floral fragrance. He wondered where the flowers were; he'd enjoyed gardening in the past, but he didn't recognise this scent.   
  
He sank his head in his hands. Trowa bent at his knees, tipping his chin up to see how he was.   
  
"I'm fine!" snapped Heero. "Just... just need a rest, I guess."   
  
A glass of water appeared beside him on the bench; the blond boy put a hand on his shoulder and passed it to him. Heero shivered. He wanted to shake off the touch; he wanted Trowa's hand there instead, but his travelling companion continued to kneel a foot away from him, though his face was creased with concern. Heero was irrationally angry with Trowa. His stomach ached; his legs felt unsteady.   
  
He felt his host's eyes on him still. "You must have supper at once. You need the food inside you. Then a good night in bed."   
  
"I need sleep -" said Heero. His voice sounded hoarse. He swigged another mouthful of the water.   
  
"A good night in bed..." repeated the boy, firmly. Heero wondered why it didn't sound like he was agreeing with him.   
  
"He's very pale..." came Trowa's voice. Both of their faces swam a little, on the periphery of Heero's vision.   
  
"He'll be fine," came the boy's voice in reply. "Like I said, he needs a good night." His eyes were suddenly very large and close, and Heero blinked sharply to ward them off. The blue iris was sharp, as if it had a physical edge of its own. "You're pale, yes. But you have a lovely face," came the murmur against his cheek. The boy's breath was warm, and there was that sharp, poignant aroma of citrus again. Almost as if it emanated from his own body. But Heero had never known a fragrance or a soap that strong.   
  
The laugh was soft, and melodic like the chimes, again. "A lovely face..."   
  
*   
  
Heero felt much better for the food, though he'd eaten less than Trowa. Trowa was even now mopping up gravy with some fresh bread, the light of pleasure from good food in his eyes. There were drops of gravy on his lips; Heero watched him lick them up. His lover did, indeed, have a healthy appetite, though he remained stick-thin, whatever he ate. He was deceptive! thought Heero. Tall and skinny, with a pale complexion that had made his parents see their boy as delicate; as needing protection. Trowa had explained it to him, that their 'protection' was stifling; that it had become more and more like isolation and imprisonment, as he grew up. But Heero was sure that Trowa was stronger than him, in many ways. He deferred to him often - he knew that. Trowa knew so much more about the world.   
  
They had spoken little between themselves - just eaten the soup, and the goulash, and drunk the cool water. The dining room was lit by candles as well, though a couple of times during the meal the overhead lights flickered. The generator was warming itself up again, perhaps. The air inside was cooler, now, though heavy with stillness. The sweat in their clothing had dried to a soft clamminess.   
  
The boy had introduced himself as Quatre, and he appeared to be the waiter as well as desk clerk. He fussed round them, still in the brief shorts, but with his shirt buttoned up now. "Are you the chef as well?" smiled Trowa, one time that Quatre returned to the table.   
  
"No, not tonight," replied Quatre. He turned his back to Trowa, briefly, as he collected the plates. His eyes met Heero's again, like magnets. There was a flash of mischief there. "I service other needs. Other _appetites_..." His voice dropped to the lowest murmur, so that Heero was unsure if he'd heard accurately. He thought that Trowa had not heard at all.   
  
Heero was suddenly, embarrassingly aware that he had an erection, though his lap was luckily hidden under the table. He was confused. It was because he was very tired... he was still so hot from the journey, and the sticky heat of the evening...   
  
He wished that the meal was over and they could go to their room.   
  
Then Quatre turned back and spoke to Trowa. "Our chef tonight is Wufei. You'll meet him soon."   
  
"I should thank him for this great meal," said Trowa. Heero saw a high flush on his cheeks that was also very unusual. The meal had been too highly spiced, he thought.   
  
"Do it," replied Quatre, simply. "Go into the kitchen and thank him." He stood there, with the plates piled in his hands, his back now to Heero, and seemingly unaware that his butt was poised just over Heero's leg. Heero couldn't help but see the smooth, plump flesh of his buttock, out from under the high cut shorts. The crease at the top of his thigh had a remnant drop of warm moisture.   
  
"Wufei appreciates personal attention. He'll want to know that he's pleased you."   
  
Trowa was embarrassed again at Quatre's directness, and perhaps at some of his strange phrases. "Well... maybe in the morning...I think we'd better rest soon, for tonight. We've been on the road for a coupla days now, non-stop."   
  
Quatre nodded. "It's been a long journey for you, but you'll find it was worthwhile."   
  
"I - huh?" Trowa was confused. He watched Quatre stack their glasses - his slow, sure fingers. A slight smile on his lips. They were full lips, the colour of a blood-red orange. Strangely at odds with his naive, boyish looks. Trowa found his conversation disconcerting.   
  
Heero wasn't listening to their conversation at all. His heart was beating very fast, and his hand had stilled on the table in front of him. He knew several things in just that one, blinding moment. He knew that Quatre had nothing on underneath his shorts. The boy had, as he thought earlier, just thrown them on carelessly, to come and greet them. The shirt, as well. He had been naked before. And his flesh was very warm.   
  
How am I so sure about that? he marvelled. And why is such a fantastic thought so vivid?   
  
He wondered what a creature like Quatre was doing here in the first place. He was almost beautiful, like a Greek Adonis - he seemed careless, though not in a clumsy way, and rather fey. He moved languidly, and smoothly; his gestures were easy, and he touched everything as he passed, with a trailing, almost aimless finger. He had brought food to their table on plain, simple plates, and then moved gently around them, with water glasses and paper napkins, to serve and to clear. His eyes were never still, and yet when Heero looked up at his face, they always seemed to be fastened back on him. They sparkled with a pale blue light; it was riveting. Heero thought that Quatre didn't match this strange, run-down place. He wouldn't look out of place on a stage; on a catwalk; in a club. Where he could be admired, and coveted.   
  
I could see him through a window, thought Heero. Through a spy hole. He'd be in a cage. Up high. Where he'd wait for me to arrive, and beg me to release him, and then I would watch him stroke himself, and smile, and undress for me...   
  
He was horrified at the unbidden, fantastic thoughts that had suddenly consumed him! He'd never had such thoughts in his life... at least, not since his early adolescence. And then he had been wracked with guilt and misery because his desires had reached for young men, not girls. He had listened to his parents' loud and bigoted opinions, and watched the way that they expected everyone's behaviour to fit in with their own narrow, cheap, aggressive world. He had learned a long time ago not to argue anything with them, because his father's hand was fast and vicious, and he still had marks on his back from earlier years' beatings. He had hidden his pubescent agonies under the bedclothes at night, clasped tightly in his palm. Hot, quick, shuddering agonies. With dreams of smooth, breastless bodies, and wide, boyish shoulders, and the touch of a warm, thick cock against a thigh...   
  
And then he'd met Trowa, and he knew for certain that his way was different. That what he wanted was the right thing for him. Most importantly, that that there were other boys like him, which he had never believed before. It had been on the one hand, a great relief. But he also knew then that the difference was unacceptable in their small, deep-rooted, homophobic town. And it always would be. Trowa knew it, too, and Trowa didn't want them to hide their relationship anymore.   
  
And so they ran.   
  
Quatre had brushed at his arm, ostensibly reaching for the side plate, to clear it away. Heero snatched his arm away from the touch, but the blond wasn't offended. He straightened up, still nursing that slow, lascivious smile.   
  
Trowa was staring at his lover, strangely. There was tension between them, and Heero cursed himself. He still felt a little disorientated.   
  
"Do you own this place? Run it?" Trowa asked Quatre. He was being polite, both he and Heero knew. Neither of them felt this boy had either the ability or the attitude to run a motel. "If you don't mind me asking."   
  
Quatre shrugged, expressively. "Of course not. I just work here. I work for Maxwell; he owns it all."   
  
"The motel...?"   
  
Quatre turned again, so that he looked at Heero, but his reply was to Trowa. "The motel... everything... every _one_... he owns it _all_..."   
  
Somehow his odd behaviour didn't seem rude. No, not rude, thought Heero, his head beginning to throb again. But it seemed dangerous...   
  
"You look faint again," came Quatre's cool voice, seemingly from a far distance. "You must rest now. Wufei will take your bags down for you."   
  
*   
  
They were back out in the hall, and Trowa was holding Heero's elbow, steadying him. When Quatre moved to the desk, Trowa wondered if he'd be asked to sign them in. They'd used false names a few times - to get a bus ticket into town; to buy the car. He would use them again, if needs be. A little paranoid, maybe - for he was reasonably sure that his parents wouldn't report him missing. He rather thought that they'd be relieved. He'd never told Heero the whole story of the scene with them, when he confessed his relationship with another boy. _Taunted_ them with it, in fact. His words had been laced with the keenness of revenge. For Heero had also never known just how repressive they had made his childhood life; the cold hatred; the hours spent locked in dark rooms. The strange and unnatural ways they had tried to prevent him ever growing up at all...   
  
But the boy never asked for formal registration. Trowa looked over the counter, and couldn't see any paperwork at all. No pen; no index cards. He thought that he could see a thin film of dust on the cover of the ledger. He wondered how the hell they ran this place at all.   
  
Then there was movement at the corner of the hall, and another man appeared from the dining room. He moved with astonishing grace, yet he was taller and stockier than Quatre; there was none of the boy about him.   
  
"This is Wufei," said Quatre, quietly. His eyes ran from Heero to Trowa. And stayed there. "You wanted to praise him for his skills, didn't you? His culinary skills?"   
  
Trowa felt that he was being teased. He was being tested. He just didn't know in what context. He felt Heero when he shifted his feet beside him, but he didn't turn to him; he just stared at the man in front of him, temporarily speechless.   
  
He was spectacular! Where Quatre had beautiful, youthful looks, Wufei was most definitely a _man_ ; dark-haired with strong, masculine features. He looked slightly Asian - he wore his hair long, but it was drawn back severely from his forehead, with a braid caught in a band at his neck. It shone a purple-black colour - and his eyes reflected the same richness. His body was clothed in a pale-coloured tunic top and loose pants, but even under that, Trowa could see the muscles of his shoulders, and the tight definition of his chest. He stood easily, his legs slightly apart, his hands at his sides. Trowa had never thought he was attracted to such an athletic model of a man - but he felt strange stirrings in the pit of his stomach. And, unmistakeably, his groin.   
  
He felt both thrilled and ashamed, at the same time. He tightened his grip on Heero's arm, full of confusion.   
  
Quatre sighed gently, breaking the silence. One of the candles sputtered, and went out, casting further shadows over the reception area. He hitched himself up on to the desk, and perched there, swinging a slim, barely tanned leg over the edge. He stared at the man called Wufei, and they seemed to share some hidden message between themselves.   
  
"Take the bag down to number 6 for Mr Barton, will you, Wufei?"   
  
Trowa gasped slightly. "I - didn't tell you my name yet, Quatre, did I?"   
  
The boy shrugged. His eyes flashed in that sultry way they had; his hands spread expressively on his thighs. "I don't remember. Perhaps your - companion did. I don't see that it matters, do you?"   
  
Trowa thought that it probably did. But he didn't feel he was in any state to debate the point. Wufei moved in front of him and bent slightly; he picked up their bag as if it weighed nothing. There was a fragrance to his body that teased at Trowa's nostrils. Skin, and sweat, of course, as he'd expect in this sweltering weather, and also some memory of the supper food - but a muskiness as well. It was heady.   
  
"Do you work for Maxwell, as well, Wufei?" he stuttered. "Are you and Quatre -?" He realised he had no idea how he was going to finish the sentence, and his mouth shut with a snap. He had no knowledge of this man at all; no notion of what kind of person he was - whether he spoke the language; what sense of humour he had. Whether he worked for or with Quatre; whether he was hetero or not. Trowa wondered why he was bothered. Why he suddenly wanted to know some of these things.   
  
"I work here as well," nodded the man. "For Maxwell. Of course." His voice was deeper than Quatre's, and with a lilt that showed he had foreign origins. It was almost a drawl - very seductive. Trowa didn't know if he was aware of that.   
  
"We're colleagues," he said, and there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You might say that we work together."   
  
He moved behind the desk, and paused at Quatre's back. He rested the bag on the edge of the counter. Both of the travellers felt as if their eyes were being dragged towards the pair of them. They saw Wufei's face over Quatre's shoulder - the difference in the two men's heights allowed it. They saw Wufei's left hand rest gently at Quatre's hip; the fingers teased gently under the fabric of his shirt, pushing it away from his skin. The erratic light dappled across Quatre's chest. Wufei's right hand couldn't be seen, as it was entirely behind the blond boy's back. Then Quatre leant his head slightly to the side, baring his neck to where the other man stood. Wufei dipped his head slightly, planting his lips at Quatre's exposed neck. And he nipped at the pulse there.   
  
Quatre whimpered. It was a soft, breathy sound, like a trapped animal. Heero stared with shock, at the blatantly sexual caress. Trowa felt his heartbeat hitch, and pause.   
  
The candle nearest them hissed, and the flame flared up. It shot long, dark shadows across the room. The planes of Wufei's face were accentuated; the paleness of Quatre's thigh shone the more brightly in contrast to the darkness.   
  
Heero looked up at Quatre's face, to meet the blond boy's gaze. It was calm; it was steady. But the pupils were dilated. And as Heero watched, he saw gentle movement around the waist of his shorts, as if the back of them was being tugged down - as if there were something being slipped down inside. He thought it was probably Wufei's hidden hand. He could see more of Quatre's nude hip, now. More of his pale, young skin.   
  
Quatre sucked in a breath, his eyes still holding Heero. Another slight smile teased at his full lips. The tip of his tongue appeared suddenly, rubbing quickly across the pink flesh of his mouth, then darted back in. His head fell back a little; very slowly, as if dominated by an invisible thread. The movement in his shorts became more pronounced.   
  
" _Heero_..." he whispered. He couldn't have said that! thought Heero. He doesn't know my name. It's the wind.   
  
Quatre's hand slipped into his lap, and rested on the bulge that they could now see under the denim. He sighed again, softly. Bit at his lower lip, as if something were nagging at him. And then, in front of the two spectators, sat as he was on the desk, with Wufei's hand down his shorts, up against his ass, he started to rub at his arousal.   
  
Heero wrenched his eyes away as if he'd been burned. He needed the balm of Trowa's gaze; the comfort of his lover's attention. But as he turned his head, looking to the other man for support, he found Trowa also entranced by the erotic show.   
  
And Wufei was staring straight back at him.   
  
Trowa gave the smallest sound of protest. Not even a word - more of a moan. When Heero followed the line of his eyes, he saw that he wasn't watching Quatre's masturbation, so much as the man behind him. Watching Wufei - tall, and silent, and seemingly calm, even as his shoulder rocked gently and rhythmically, and his upper arm muscles flexed, and Trowa knew without a doubt that he was fingering the blond boy.   
  
Quatre was panting softly now, but fast. His hand slid inside the front of the shorts, clutching the shape that strained the fabric - that was obviously his fiercely erect cock. He pumped at it, roughly; he licked his already moist lips. He leant slightly forward, allowing Wufei more room behind, and his hips began to thrust gently, in counterpoint to the rocking hand that they all knew now was up his ass, and probing for his prostate. He turned his slightly unfocussed gaze on Heero - and he smiled at him. He opened his soft, lush mouth, as if to speak.   
  
And then a bell rang.   
  
It was a short, sudden sound. Loud; shrill. Like an alarm. Or a buzzer, calling for their attention.   
  
It startled them all.   
  
And at the same time, the lights in the ceiling flickered, then flared, and stayed on. The hallway was bathed in full light, like a spotlight on the performers there. It froze them all.   
  
*   
  
Wufei moved first. There was a rustle of cloth, as he must have removed his hand from Quatre's shorts, and he stepped out from behind the desk.   
  
"It's Maxwell. He needs us elsewhere. I'll carry the bag down, and then we'll go and see to him."   
  
Quatre cleared his throat. His face was a little petulant, but the expression passed quickly. He nodded agreement with Wufei, and tugging a little at his shorts, he hopped down off the desk. They both looked over towards the dining room, expectantly. Still stunned, Heero and Trowa followed their gaze - but there was nothing there that they could see. No-one there. Just the tables and chairs, the cloths looking even more poor and washed out in the newly restored electric light.   
  
Heero's nose was alert to the citrus smell, mixed now with a heady, cloying smell of herbs of some kind. Beside him, he felt Trowa catch his breath, as if he'd been holding it for ages.   
  
His voice sounded calm, but a little alien in the new atmosphere. "Quatre - what did you mean, you'd got our room ready?"   
  
Wufei was already opening the door to the outside walkway. Quatre was also distracted; he brushed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "It's ready now for you to go in..."   
  
"No -" Heero shook his head, impatient with the deliberate misunderstanding. It was nagging at him. "When we arrived. When you met us in the yard. You said _our room_. As if it were already designated as ours; as if you knew we were coming. But you didn't."   
  
"No," replied Quatre. "I didn't. I think you're still a little dizzy, Heero. It was just a figure of speech." He moved almost swiftly out of their way, and Wufei stood waiting for them to follow him.   
  
"Come on, Heero," murmured Trowa. His head still ached a little from the exhibition they'd been witness to. He was aroused, too - and surprisingly disturbed by the fact. He needed sleep more urgently than he'd thought...   
  
Heero followed. He was angry, for some reason. And a little scared. Quatre had used his name, in the hall. He knew his name already.   
  
He couldn't make sense of it all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa woke suddenly, with his head whirling, at first forgetting where he was. Then he remembered that they'd run away; that they'd got lost; that he and Heero were at the motel. In that first second of stirring, it all felt like a thousand years ago.   
  
He remembered being shown down a dim, flag-stoned pathway, passing on one side an open space like a courtyard. It was tucked between the main reception of the motel building, and another low-roofed area that may have been the kitchen; hidden from view from the front yard. There was the glint of light on a wall at the far side, throwing shadows on a couple of tall, palm-like trees, and what looked like stone benches. There was a sunken structure in the centre of the yard - then Wufei had passed in front of him, and he'd not looked at it more closely. On the other side had been a line of doors, leading obviously to the motel rooms. There were no lights from inside those rooms. Their steps had echoed dully on the stones as they walked to the very furthest room in the row; no-one had spoken. Heero had been rather ill, that was it - though he'd been in a strange mood since supper. Trowa knew he didn't know him well enough to understand all his moods. He didn't always have the patience, either. Their bag had been lifted into the room, one marked with a 6 on the door, though he'd seen no sense to the numbering of the rooms that they passed. Then they'd been left alone. His final view had been of Wufei's dark eyes glittering at him in the semi-darkness.   
  
Trowa remembered sitting down on the bed to gather his thoughts. He realised now that he must have fallen asleep the minute he lay back on the bed. The journey - the heavy, rich meal - the strange events in the lobby - they had all taken their toll. But he was awake now, and he peered around him. The room was dark, but there was moonlight through the window. He felt confused. Weren't the lights back working again? Someone must have turned them off in the room - perhaps to let him sleep. He wondered how late it was.   
  
With a slight groan, he propped himself up on his arm. The air around him was still close from the heat of the day, yet not uncomfortably so. He saw that the room was barely larger than the double bed he lay on. But the mattress was surprisingly firm, and he knew that he'd slept well on it. There was nothing under him but a sheet, and a thin coverlet. He looked round slowly, seeing worn drapes, that were in places almost transparent; a chair and a mirrored dresser, up close to the wall, both made of wood that was well marked with age. On the dresser, a reading lamp with a faded shade, and candle holders beside it. And an overhead fan, set into the ceiling, hiccupping lazily around after a day's hard work. He saw the blades reflected in the old, spotted mirror tiles at its base. Everything very basic, and rather bleak. A typical, run-down motel.   
  
But his head rested on deep, yielding pillows. And when he reached out to touch a pile of towels on the chair, he found them soft and warm. The contrast of sparseness and luxury confused his still awakening senses. The air was thick in here, and it moulded around his body. His skin was tingling with the groggy softness that comes after a sleep - he ran a hand down his chest and liked the sensation. He stroked himself again. Still good...   
  
He'd been dreaming, he was sure he had. It had been a suffocating, disorientating dream - he felt the shudder still in his limbs, the throb of his heart. He couldn't remember all the details - they were slipping away from him like sand through his fingers, even as his mind cleared. But he remembered there'd been a tall man, a stranger; a hypnotising smile... there'd been a Presence - something soft and thick, flowing like viscous liquid; stroking like feathers; full of warmth and colour and the smell of something delicious and sensual...   
  
It had slid inside his pants, between his legs, seeking an entrance to his body...   
  
With a shock, he realised that he was in nothing but his boxers, and that he had a throbbing erection. It tented the fabric - there was the slightest damp patch at its tip. It was much fiercer than his normal waking reaction, and it showed no signs of dying down.   
  
He'd never had such a strange, erotic dream before, not even about Heero!   
  
He wondered if Heero had undressed him. Surely it wouldn't have been anyone else! The erection was nagging at him; persistent; demanding. He toyed with the idea of running his hand a little lower, and giving it what it needed...   
  
Then a door at the back of the room opened, bringing a waft of scented, wet air. It was obviously from the bathroom.   
  
"Heero - is that you? Where are you? Come on over..."   
  
His lover walked over, towelling at his hair. He was naked, except for another towel twisted round his waist. Trowa saw the moonlight slicing across his bare chest, exposing a single, dark nipple. He ached somewhere deep inside, wondering at the emotions that stirred in him. He lusted after Heero, of course he did - but this ache was almost painful.   
  
"How late is it? Have you had a bath? The lights are working now -"   
  
"I know," replied Heero. "But I liked the candlelight in the dining room - we can have the same in here. It's only ten o'clock or so. I left you here and ran a bath - it's a very small bathroom, so I thought we'd have to take turns. And I thought you needed the sleep."   
  
"Thanks," sighed Trowa. "But now I need something else..."   
  
Heero bent at the dresser, lighting a candle in one of the holders there. When he turned back to Trowa, his face was dark and light in turns. The faint smell of sulphur from the match blazed a trail in the still air. Trowa sighed contentedly, and fell back on to the bed.   
  
"Come and hold me, Heero. Come and lie beside me."   
  
Heero's voice was a little distant, though he moved nearer the bed as he spoke. "It's just us now, isn't it, Trow?"   
  
"Yes, love. This is our new beginning. For us - together. They won't chase us any more - there's no-one to keep us apart. To tell us who we can and can't see -"   
  
"Swear at us - spit at us -" Heero's voice was full of remembered pain and anger. It had been the worst time of his life, suffering the disgust of his so-called friends, when they hounded him for the truth about local gossip - lying to them and his family on a daily basis, until he couldn't remember what was the truth. And all because he was drawn to this man; had _wanted_ him. Was that so wrong?   
  
"No more of that..." whispered Trowa. He could feel the damp heat from Heero's body - smell the shampoo from his hair. He was also consumed by want - very badly. Very _fiercely_. He rolled gently over on the bed towards Heero, trying not to catch his painfully aching cock on the cover. "No more sneaking around, doing it in corners -"   
  
Heero winced. "In cars - in alleyways -"   
  
Trowa smiled, and saw the answering gleam of Heero's teeth in the half light. "Sometimes good, though, eh? Always exciting - sometimes fun..."   
  
"But we have a choice, now, Trow. A choice of when and where. Not just snatched half hours at lunch, or after dark, or while my parents are at some bar or other..."   
  
Trowa moaned slightly. Heero had found it so much more distressing than he. He refused to care what they all thought - refused to care what his parents said about him. Instead, he preferred to remember their desperate, awkward groping sessions. They'd never had much time together, to explore each other's bodies. Everything had been rushed; feelings anguished; lovemaking awkward. But as fascinating as an addiction, for both of them. Trowa knew that they had only scratched the surface of his needs and responses - he suspected that it was the same for Heero. They had years of frustration and repression to set free. He would see that Heero was liberated from all of that - that he would save him!   
  
"Trowa..."   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"My choice is _now_ , Trowa. I want you here - and now."   
  
"Sure..." smiled Trowa. For didn't he want the same thing?   
  
But Heero didn't seem to be expecting an answer. He was moving steadily on to the bed beside Trowa - he leant over his prone body. The mattress creaked quietly under him. Trowa felt the whispering trail of his damp hair on his skin as he bent his head to kiss him. Heero's chest was heaving, with a swift, harsh breath. The towel fell from his hips as he straddled the other man's body, and Trowa felt the heat from his groin against his legs. Heero was as desperately erect as he was; Heero _wanted_ him. He shuddered with delight. It had been days since they'd shared anything more than a kiss and a stroke...   
  
Heero's mouth was soft on his chest; nibbling gently at the flesh. Impatient!   
  
"Do you smell that perfume, Trowa? Like a herb - piquant. Like growing things..."   
  
"What?" he gasped. He couldn't concentrate - his cock ached for touching, and he wanted to hold Heero's tight, young body, and kiss the hot mouth, and grasp his hips, and fondle down between his thighs to find the parts of him he dreamed about at night... "It - it'll be something in the bathroom, I expect. I don't smell anything different except _you_...!"   
  
"I want you, Trowa."   
  
"I know, love, I -"   
  
"No, Trowa, listen to me!" Heero's voice was low and harsh, and it bore a tone of command that Trowa had never heard from him before. "I want you to take me tonight, Trowa. I want you to _fuck me_! Very hard, and very well. I want you to make me come, groaning and crying out loud -"   
  
Trowa had rarely been shocked. But he was now. Heero had never said such things before!   
  
When he'd first met Heero, Trowa had had a little experience of sexual matters - but he soon knew that Heero was a complete virgin. It had taken a long time to convince Heero that he was genuinely attracted to him - that something was possible between them. Heero had been as sweet to kiss as his first taste of honey; as frightening to touch as the first time he dived alone into the deep, rough water of the sea. But once that barrier was broken, they had devoured each other like starving survivors, determined to discover more about each other, and _with_ each other. They had experimented as much as they could, whilst keeping the true nature of their friendship a secret from everyone they knew. They met at spare moments - before work in the mornings, and late at night, after their families were asleep. They borrowed cars - they lied to friends that they were meeting others. They found corners and cellars and cubby-holes, to be together. To touch each other.   
  
Until they grew careless, and the rumours started, racing quickly round the town like water finds its way through the smallest weaknesses in a wall. Time began to run out for them.   
  
But in all their make-out sessions, Heero had never initiated anything between them. He'd always been enthusiastic, of course - he'd accepted whatever Trowa suggested, and had held and caressed and pumped him, whenever they found the chance. He'd allowed Trowa's cock inside him several times, after they'd both confessed their feelings for each other, and the need they had to ease each other's lust. It had seemed the right way, to them both - that Trowa should take Heero. It had always been fast, and often painful; there was a feeling overall of frustrated thrill - they desperately wanted to do more, but had so few opportunities. There'd never been any suggestion that Heero should be the taker.   
  
And now they were together, in a bedroom, with the night to themselves. A night, steamy with remembered heat and a desire that Trowa knew had been growing in him since the beginning of their journey. He looked up at the ceiling, and saw Heero's dark, soft hair reflected in the mirror tiles; a distorted view of his own, pale face flickering between the movement of the fan, like an old-fashioned slide show.   
  
Heero had wriggled down Trowa's legs - he pushed them apart, so that he could kneel between them. Trowa felt fingers probing at his tightening balls; a tongue licking at the softer skin inside his thigh.   
  
"Someone looks pleased to see me..." Heero hissed, his breath hot on Trowa's red, swollen flesh. Trowa felt his cock twitch under Heero's hands, as he eased the boxers over it, and dragged them down his legs and off. "I want to taste you, Trowa..."   
  
And _never_ had Heero gone down on him!   
  
Trowa yelped with shocked pleasure as the firm, full lips slid over the head of him; as they teased at the skin, easing it up to the top, then letting it loose to shrivel back down the shaft. Heero was a little clumsy - he had no practice in this. But his soft, hasty fingers were like trails of fire, burning their way over the flesh. His mouth was wet, and his lips eager to caress and _consume_. Trowa felt the ecstasy of his lover's enthusiasm, and his senses started to slip away. He'd sucked Heero off before - they both loved that. Though he'd never swallowed him; that was one step too far at the moment. But Heero had never wanted to return the favour, preferring to use his strong, nimble fingers to make Trowa come for him.   
  
Until tonight.   
  
"Heero..." he gasped. "God - your mouth... I never..."   
  
"Never what, Trow?" Heero's voice was muffled. He sounded as if he were impatient to get back to the sucking; to the licking. He rolled one of Trowa's sacs into his mouth, savouring it. Investigating the taste...   
  
"Never felt like this... never thought it'd be so good..." Trowa groaned, and his hips bucked up against Heero's chin. He wasn't going to last very long at all at this rate! " _God_ , Heero, I don't know what's changed your mind, but I'm gonna come very _soon_ -"   
  
Heero paused, his tongue lapping softly at the base of Trowa's balls. Kneading the little creases back and forth, tantalising his lover, whether deliberately or not, Trowa didn't know and didn't care. Slowly, Heero slid his mouth up and off the pulsing flesh. Trowa could hear his own harsh panting - feel the dreadful suspense, coiling in his groin.   
  
"It's noisy tonight, don't you think?"   
  
"Huh?" Trowa managed nothing but a grunt.   
  
"The others - the guests, I suppose. I can hear all the voices...laughs...people calling welcome..."   
  
Trowa shook his head; he could hear nothing but the sound of blood hammering in his brain. "Nothing, love... nothing. Don't leave me like this, Heero - come here - touch me again -" He was afraid that he was begging, and, again, he didn't care.   
  
Heero sighed, and rolled languidly on to his knees. He lifted himself up on his arms, presenting his ass to Trowa. The flesh was smooth, newly washed; pale in the moonlight, with slashes of flickering brightness from the candle flame. The shadows between his thighs were dark; the crease between his buttocks promised a tight, damp sanctuary, teasing painfully at Trowa's need. "Fuck me," he whispered, fiercely. "Now, Trowa! I want you inside me. I want it properly, and I want it _now_ -!"   
  
" _God_..." hissed Trowa. He struggled to his own knees, beside the crouching man. "I - yes, of course I - but lube -?" He couldn't remember if he'd brought anything when they left; it had been the early hours of the morning, and they'd taken nothing but a few changes of clothes, and any money they could lay their hands on. He cursed his naiveté - his stupid lack of forethought -   
  
"On the dresser," murmured Heero. "I brought it in from the bathroom. There's everything in there, crammed together on the side of the bath - oils, powders, creams...everything we could need."   
  
In a second rate motel? thought Trowa. Very unusual. And not worth another thought, when he had a cock so rigid that his body was shaking, and the promise of satisfaction was beside him on the bed, waiting for his next move. "Heero - " he gasped, grabbing at an unbranded jar of gel; fumbling with the lid; rolling the cool stuff over his fingers. "I - are you sure -"   
  
"Do it!" came the tight reply. He thought that Heero must be gritting his teeth. He felt the sweat springing up on his body again - the fan seemed to have little effect the minute they started moving. The night would be as warm and sticky as the day had been sweltering. It made his hand slippery when he grasped Heero's hip; but he held tightly, as he slipped the fingers of his other hand into him, stretching him as gently as he could.   
  
"Enough!" groaned Heero. "I'm fine. Fuck me, Trow - for Christ's sake, get on with it!"   
  
With a gasping guttural sound, Trowa came into him _hard_ ; Heero had never known him so determined. He gasped - the pain of the penetration took his breath away. No more the nervous, hesitant inching of previous attempts. The fear of hurting; the desperate need, at war with the awkward inexperience. No, Trowa had obeyed Heero's order - his insistence was contagious. Heero felt his own cock bob beneath him, straining with its weeping arousal. He felt the thick throbbing of the shaft inside him; the awkward stretching of his passage to accommodate it. His legs shook slightly with the tension of holding himself up.   
  
And Trowa began to thrust into him.   
  
Heero groaned, his body pulled back and forth. It still hurt - but it was _good_! It was better than before; it was different than before; it was _nothing like_ before! He and Trowa were different men, now - they were new lovers - they were in another world -   
  
He wondered briefly what on earth was happening to him, physically and emotionally, to be thinking such strange things. Then he abandoned the thoughts completely, to the incredible sensation happening inside him.   
  
Trowa felt his climax approaching - it was sweeter and sharper than he'd ever known it. He knew it was gonna _hurt_ , it was so good! He thrust increasingly fiercely into Heero, not considering any more whether he hurt him or not. He needed to find satisfaction - he needed to see his cock plunging into Heero's ass, then sliding out, only to plunge back in again. He needed - he needed -   
  
Heero was bent underneath him, held up on a single arm as he pumped at his own cock with desperate fingers. He moaned, and he panted and he begged Trowa to keep going - to come with him. He cried out; he swore. He knew Trowa might hate the harsh words, but he also suspected that he'd be excited by them at the same time. With a groan, he felt the cum bubbling inside him, and the swelling at his tip. He squeezed himself, just as Trowa banged his hardest into him, and he came explosively, yelling Trowa's name as he pumped the thick, creamy stuff all over his hand and the coverlet.   
  
" _Yesss_...Trowa! Fuck, fuck, _harder_ , oh yesss -!"   
  
With a shock, Trowa realised how aroused he was at Heero's shouts. He felt the muscles inside Heero's ass clench as he climaxed; his own movements grew fiercer. And then he felt the slithering, seductive warmth from his dream - the _Presence_ \- moving as he moved; thrusting as he thrust. It was inside him; it was curling inside his groin; it was stretching its tentacles out through his cock and into Heero's body. And it demanded he follow - it demanded a satisfaction of its own. It was laughing at him; at his eager foolishness in allowing it to inhabit him! But it promised a glorious reward, at the same time...   
  
Trowa felt the hot body shuddering underneath him - and although he knew Heero had finished, he clutched at his narrow waist to hold him up, for he had just a little way further to go -   
  
" _Heero_ -" he groaned. "So fucking good -!"   
  
He burst up into Heero - felt the soaking of the walls inside, the walls that still held him so tightly. Felt the jerking of his own cock as it flexed against them. Felt the laughter and the pleasure and the triumph inside his body explode out of him with the cum and his rasping, agonised breath.   
  
They fell to the bed, still joined.   
  
Trowa lay, stunned out of his mind. At the excitement of it all - at the release of such poignant need. There was a wash of emotions inside him, all mixed up - though he didn't feel quite as comfortable with them as he'd have thought, having just fucked the man he cared for more than anyone else. He was still shocked and excited at Heero's passionate behaviour - he had never known him so vocal before!   
  
Heero lay beside him, exhausted. Sore. Thrilled. Remembering how frenzied things had been between them. Thinking that he'd never heard Trowa swear like that before.   
  
Wondering if he'd really seen the flash of a blond head at their window, just as he knelt on the bed, and Trowa first entered him.   
  
Just wondering what sort of a place this was.   
  
*   
  
Down the corridor, the voices sighed. The voices laughed very softly. The voices praised. In room 6, one body heard the murmurs of welcome in the heat of the wind, whilst the other heard only the beating of the fan.   
  
"They're gorgeous, aren't they?" smiled Quatre. His voice had been one of the ones laughing. His face was flushed, and his body shivered with anticipation.   
  
"Very," agreed Wufei. He rested comfortably against the wall, in a seated position. His hand played absentmindedly with Quatre's blond hair, as the boy's head lay on his lap. His voice had been one that praised; and he gave praise sparingly at the best of times. "Maxwell is very pleased."   
  
"I am indeed," came a third, and new, voice. A man's voice. It was deeper - stronger. But there was a rich timbre to it that was pleasant to the ear; a seductive, distracting quality. The two seated men started, but then they relaxed. Quatre blushed even further; his smile became sweeter.   
  
"Join us..." he whispered. He wriggled in Wufei's lap, and he slid a hand behind his neck, to fondle what he found resting underneath his head. Wufei gave a sharp moan. His hands tightened on Quatre's hair; he tugged a little roughly.   
  
But the third person didn't appear. There was just his voice, and maybe a darker shadow in the corner of the corridor.   
  
"Come to me later," it commanded. They wouldn't question it. "I want to hear _them_ for a while longer. Watch _them_..."   
  
"The taller one -" sighed Wufei. His hand tightened on Quatre's neck, as he thought on Trowa Barton. "He has a darkness in him. A need."   
  
"A dark one - yes, I see it. And he is very fine," agreed the hidden voice. "You respond to that, I know. But the other -" He paused for a moment. "He is the _sweet_ one."   
  
Quatre hissed, and his eyes slid half shut. He twisted his body round so that he was now face down between Wufei's legs; his hand was moving slowly, yet firmly, up and down, on the bulge underneath Wufei's tunic pants. He opened his mouth wider; licked his lips thoroughly. The taller man looked down at him with hot, greedy eyes, and placed both of his hands deep into the soft, blond locks. He pressed Quatre's head further down, demanding his attention.   
  
"See to him, Quatre," came the deep voice. The voice of a director; a master. "Touch him well. Then I may see the sweet one even more clearly."   
  
Quatre pushed the light, loose fabric away from Wufei's erect cock, and bent his head to it. It was large, and swollen red with his caressing, and drops of pre-cum shone in welcome. Eagerly, he took it into his mouth, and began sucking. Wufei groaned, and thrust up into his mouth; they developed a firm, familiar rhythm.   
  
There was a sharp intake of breath from the third presence, and the glint of hungry eyes in the darkness. Eyes that weren't focussed on the two men, but on something different - someone different. A vision that was private and intimate; protected behind walls, and behind doors - and yet was easily accessible to _him_.   
  
Quatre had wriggled his shorts down his legs; he raised himself to kneeling, and spread his knees far apart on the flagstones of the corridor. He kept up the slow, steady strokes of his mouth down Wufei's cock, his head deep within the other man's lap - but now he stretched his hand down under his own groin, moving with easy familiarity between his thighs, and he thrust two fingers up into his ass. He began to pump them, in time with his sucking. His cock, freed from its clothing, jiggled against his stomach. He moaned softly, under his breath.   
  
From within a growing, erotic haze, Quatre heard the catch of the hidden man's breath. Smiling a little, he slid his tongue up and down the hot, pulsing, flesh between his lips, even as Wufei's hands cut cruelly, possessively into his scalp. He teased at his own prostate, even as he felt the dark-haired man bucking under him. The friction on his cock, rubbed between his bent thighs and the tight skin of his torso, brought him a fast, sudden completion, so that he shuddered and gasped, and spilled his seed all over his thighs and the ground underneath his spread legs. Then, as the sucking increased in fervour, Wufei groaned harshly, and surrendered to his own ecstasy, filling the welcoming cavern of Quatre's mouth with the sweet, bursting emission of his escaping cum.   
  
Quatre heard the secret sigh of pleasure in the corners of his mind. He heard it as if it had been shouted aloud - he was attuned to it.   
  
He smiled still, lips moistened around Wufei's throbbing flesh, swallowing, and licking the threads of the tart liquid into his throat ; he relaxed, and allowed his mind to fill with the waves of greedy desire and satisfaction. Waves that came not from him nor from the man he was sucking off, but from the secret watcher. And waves that were not fed by his own, proficient performance - but from that of another couple.   
  
It was as it should be.   
  
It promised much for all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The morning arrived, with a sharp, bright sunlight, that promised as hot a day as before. In room 6, two naked bodies lay casually together on the bed, sheet thrown off in the night. The dark-haired young man lay curled around a thick pillow, clutched to his chest. The chestnut-haired man lay stretched out, on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was a jar that may once have been full of soft, lubricating gel, rolled half-empty on to the floor. A desert bird screeched once as it passed overhead - there was the soft hitch and rumble of an air conditioning system starting up. Though it was unlikely to be equal to the task of this weather. There may have been the soft sounds of bare feet on the corridor outside the room.   
  
Trowa didn't hear them. He slipped his feet over the side of the bed, and stretched. His muscles ached. The result of several days scrunched up in a battered old car, he guessed. Then he felt the warm, regular breath on his hip, and he turned back to look down on the man sleeping beside him. He smiled. Guess the extra exercise might be to blame, as well!   
  
Heero had been a revelation! He had never known his companion was so uninhibited - so eager for sex. And so willing to try something new. Or some _things_... mused Trowa. His face grew hot at the memories. There'd been the first, hot, fierce time. Then more caresses - more stimulation. More penetration, of an ass now stretched and eased with the silky, sticky remnants of his own cum. More, gasping, astonishing climaxes. And then some _more_... His early morning erection twitched its approval. And perhaps its _greed_...   
  
Trowa reckoned he had a healthy enough libido for a young man, but he'd never felt quite so rampant before. It felt as if the heat were crawling through his very skin, and not just from the sun, sneaking through the shutters. He felt the blood throbbing through his veins; the lust lingering in his tired limbs. He teased at his rigid cock, torn between calming it down, and giving in to its demands. It was still a little sticky, with crusty white trails...he eased some trapped hairs out from the foreskin.   
  
With a sigh, he saw that Heero was still deeply asleep. He'd not disturb him yet. Anyway, he ought to go and check out the car, see what state it was in to get them going again this morning. Then he'd find some coffee, or breakfast, and bring it back for them both.   
  
His stomach rumbled, with the thought of breakfast. He realised with some distraction that he had other appetites just as ravenous as his lust. And ones that were more easily attended to! There would be breakfast here, surely - as there had been supper, the night before. Prepared by the astonishing, yet obviously talented Wufei. He remembered the taste of the food, sharp and exciting on his tongue. It had been _very_ good...   
  
He reached for his clothes to get dressed.   
  
*   
  
Trowa folded himself out of the car, and slammed the door shut. The hinges creaked. The metal was already beginning to heat up in the sun, and his fingertips smarted from the touch. He wished, not for the first time, that he swore with the same ease as Heero. The situation called for it! He fumbled under the hood, and wrenched it up. He stared at the engine like it was gonna cry 'good morning' to him, and diagnose what the trouble was itself. He prodded experimentally at some of the grime-encrusted workings. Or _not_ workings, as the case may be. He wondered if Heero knew anything about cars. He was beginning to realise that there were more things he _didn't_ know about his lover than the things that he did.   
  
Wufei stood at the main door to the motel, leant slightly against the post. He held a couple of boxes of eggs, presumably on his way into the kitchen. Trowa hadn't seen him appear, but then, he'd not been concentrating on anything but his frustration.   
  
"Trouble?"   
  
"Damn car won't start!" snapped Trowa. He reckoned he needed someone to sound off to. Didn't have Heero here, taking his share of the hassle, did he? "It was on its last legs when we arrived, and it looks like they've given way as well. Not a murmur - it won't even turn over."   
  
"I'll have a look," said Wufei. His voice was calm, and authoritative. He put down the boxes on the step and came over to stand beside Trowa. He had a cool, morning smell about him; like he'd just washed. Like he wore a light cologne, and it was still fresh from application. Trowa tried to ignore it - he was worrying about the car, wasn't he?   
  
Wufei bent over the engine, and reached confidently for a fixture - he twisted it. Sighed, when it wouldn't move. He straightened up, and squinted at the sun climbing above them. Then his eyes plunged back down quickly, and caught Trowa gazing at him. Trowa blushed. Wufei just smiled. Without a word, he reached for the hem of his tunic top, and peeled it easily up over his head and off his body. He was half-naked now, and Trowa couldn't stop himself from staring. Above the pair of them, the sky was a pale blue with the morning light. There was a sudden, pregnant silence. Wufei's skin was darker than Quatre's - nearer to Heero's tone. A line around his neck of emerging sweat drops shone with a sharp reflection; the muscles of his torso rippled with his movement. Trowa noticed the unusually dark pigment and size of his nipples. He also noticed the ache in his groin - his morning hunger was being piqued beyond food. He wished he'd woken Heero, after all, and claimed some relief...   
  
What the hell was he going on about? he berated himself. One sex-filled night, and he was obsessed by the whole thing! He shook his head slightly, to break the tension.   
  
"Ah - it's OK, I can call a mechanic -" he began. He didn't want to move away and look rude - but Wufei's hip was pressing against his, as they stood together at the car. Wufei had bent again, to look around the engine. Trowa couldn't help but admire the obviously knowledgeable way that he knew his way around a car. He also saw the waist of Wufei's pants slip down a little, showing the shallow dip at the base of his spine, before it curved into the cheeks of his ass. That dip was one of the most sensual things he'd ever seen. He felt a lot hotter.   
  
"Distributor seized," said Wufei.   
  
"Wha -?"   
  
"It's seized. No spark. It'll not run without repair - without a new distributor." Wufei's voice was a calm monotone. He stretched back up, and twisted his shoulders to loosen the muscles. Then he turned suddenly, and his hand grasped Trowa's wrist. He leaned down a little, for he was a good four inches taller. "Nothing will run without a spark," he murmured. His tone was richer, now - much smoother. The sound rolled lasciviously from his lips. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth.   
  
"Let me go -" gasped Trowa.   
  
Wufei let go of his hand, with a laugh. "You're covered in oil, like me. We'll clean ourselves off in the kitchen."   
  
"Ahh.. no, I'll go back to the room..."   
  
"In the kitchen," repeated Wufei. His dark eyes fixed on Trowa's, and they were like deep pools of command. Trowa felt the Presence tighten its coil in the pit of his stomach; felt it lick at his balls.   
  
He was suddenly, irrationally scared. Scared at what was inside him, apparently beyond his control.   
  
Then he was angry with himself, for being so fanciful. So _stupid_! It was the heat again - he was hungry. The man was only trying to help...!   
  
"Sure," he said, looking down at the stripes of black on his hands and arms - a smudge across his tee shirt. The pungent smell of motor oil was suddenly very vivid to him. "Sure - lead the way."   
  
*   
  
Trowa had peeled his own shirt off, and they'd both cleaned up in the big enamel sink of the kitchen. He was relieved to see that he'd been right - there was a breakfast being prepared. He could smell the cooking bacon; see the breaths of smoke rising from the pan on the hob. His mouth filled with saliva at the smell alone. He wandered over to look, and forgot to put his shirt back on. Or so he would have justified it.   
  
"Are there other guests staying here, Wufei?"   
  
The other man smiled slowly at him. He, also, remained shirtless. "There's plenty of room here, Trowa. Though others will come. But not today. This is for you."   
  
Trowa spun round to stare at him. The tone had been... _odd_... "Me?"   
  
Wufei shrugged. He moved beside him; he appeared to be busy at the hob. "You - and your companion. Pass me the eggs, please."   
  
Trowa went to the tray of eggs, and passed over a couple to Wufei's outstretched hand. Trowa's eyes were drawn to the ripple of muscles along his chest. He really was built most splendidly. Arms that looked like they could lift anything - any _one_. Yet Trowa knew his touch could be gentle, if he chose. The way he took the eggs - so carefully. Cradled them... Unbidden thoughts of being in Wufei's hands flooded Trowa's mind. Thoughts that made him flush, even beyond the aromatic warmth of the kitchen.   
  
He shook his head, angry at himself. Everything seemed to be sexual to him this morning!   
  
"Where can we get a replacement distributor, then?" he asked. "How far into the next town?" He wondered where they kept their own vehicles. They'd have something, wouldn't they?   
  
"A guy will be out with supplies later in the week," replied Wufei. He cracked an egg sharply, on the edge of the pan. It hissed as it fell into the hot oil. "He'll take your order."   
  
"But don't you have a car we could borrow? Or a phone, to call up a local mechanic -?"   
  
"No car. No phone," said Wufei.   
  
"No phone?" said Trowa, incredulously. " _No phone_? How do you manage? How do you get in contact with the town?"   
  
Wufei shrugged. "Maxwell deals with it all. We don't need anything else. The guy will come, and we'll tell him to find what you need, and that'll be that."   
  
"This is ridiculous -!" spluttered Trowa. A trickle of the fear was back, spitting heat around him, mimicking the fried eggs, cooking in the pan.   
  
Wufei turned and stared at him again. He looked amused again, as well. "Don't you have a cell?"   
  
Trowa flushed. "The battery's dead. Has been for a day or so. I didn't bring a charger." He didn't have to justify himself to this guy like this -!   
  
"You left in a rush," stated Wufei. "You were too eager to leave it all behind. You didn't think where you might be headed to. Life needs commitment to both, Trowa."   
  
Trowa was shocked at the man's nerve. He was just a member of staff here, wasn't he? Just because he was damn _right_ -!   
  
"Look..." he began. "It's - it's awkward. Y'see, we don't have much money left to pay for the room. We never thought we'd be stuck here for more than a day - two at the most. We were heading for the city - we were gonna get jobs, and a place of our own. Pay our way then."   
  
Wufei was smiling at him, in that slow, self-confident way that - just this morning - was beginning to irritate the hell out of Trowa. He turned away from the cooker, and with a studied, graceful ease, he stretched his arms up above his head, lacing his hands together; popping the joints of his fingers. He waited until he knew that Trowa was looking at the softer, paler underside of his arms, and the glistening trail of sweat in the hollows by his neck, and then he spoke.   
  
"That's fine. We will wait. You'll pay your way."   
  
"I mean - we will _do_ that," Trowa rushed on.   
  
"Yes," said Wufei, firmly, still with that knowing, half-smile. "I said you will. There's plenty of room here, I just told you. Just relax."   
  
Trowa's eyes narrowed. _Relax_... He thought of Heero, lying back in the room, dozing. There was something dreadfully indolent about everything here. He felt it himself - the seductive lassitude. No phones... no cars....   
  
"As soon as we get a job..." he finished, rather lamely. He resented having to be like this; he felt at the mercy of this man. This gorgeous, sensual man, who appeared totally calm in the face of anything; who had the superb physical condition of an artisan, but apparently the creative talents of an artist.   
  
"A job," mused Wufei. His eyes held Trowa's until he flushed under his gaze. "You could do some work here for us, if you like."   
  
It sounded a good idea, Trowa thought. It would help pay off their expenses here, and keep them busy until the repair guy turned up. But what would they do -?   
  
Wufei read his next question as if he'd spoken it aloud. "Quatre needs help fixing the fencing, and things around the building; Heero could help him. And you could help me in the kitchen."   
  
"What - will I do?" Trowa laughed, a little too loudly; too falsely. "I can't cook, I don't think." He'd just been told that there were no other guests - there were no other vehicles in the yard. What the hell kept these guys busy all day?   
  
Wufei stepped away from the counter, leaving the eggs popping quietly under a low heat. He stretched out his hand - the hand that had held the eggs safe; the hand that had cracked them firmly against the metal of the pan...and he took hold of Trowa's arm. "What does it matter to you? You just want to be with me."   
  
"Wha -?" protested Trowa. His body felt on fire; the dark-skinned man held him too tightly to pull away - yet not hard enough to hurt. Not _yet_...   
  
Why did that thought thrill him, rather than terrify?   
  
His words were stuttering. "Look - I guess we could stay another day. I guess I could help out here. But - ah - when will the guy be out here next?"   
  
Wufei took just a single step - but now he was up against Trowa's chest, the hot, strong torso against his own slimmer, shivering one. Wufei's skin was a hair's breadth away. A thin trail of sweat ran down from a nipple - Trowa fought the almost irresistible desire to bend his head and lick at it...   
  
"He'll come when he wants. He'll take the time he takes."   
  
Huh? thought Trowa. That was no answer at all. And he watched as something that looked like his own hand reached out and laid its palm flat on Wufei's chest. The skin was almost hairless; he could feel the beat of the other man's heart under the sharp plane of his ribs. Wufei drew in a deep breath - under his fingertips, Trowa felt his lungs move in and out.   
  
"So will you, Trowa, won't you? Take the time you take. Take whatever you will..."   
  
How could such a simple conversation be so charged? thought Trowa. He felt as if his hand were fused on to Wufei's body. He wanted it to stay there indefinitely - to caress that hot skin. To slide down slowly; to trace out each well-defined muscle. To reach for the stomach; touch the groin. Twist the curling hairs around his fingers - take the rearing cock into his fist -   
  
" _Take me_..." whispered Wufei's voice, though Trowa couldn't see his mouth moving. And now he listened more closely, he wasn't sure it was Wufei's voice at all. He just felt the beat of Wufei's heart, and the quickening of his breath on Trowa's neck, and the strange, silent words...   
  
"Take... _take_..."   
  
He wrenched his hand away as if it were in a lion's mouth. He saw Wufei's eyes widen. Then he saw nothing, except for his own feet, as he turned and stumbled out of the kitchen.   
  
There was something in his way as he made for the door - not a person - but not a shadow, either. Something as tall as he was - with the smell of man, and the touch of skin, as he lurched against it. He jerked away, and twisted past, blind to its form.   
  
He just knew that it was something to do with the Presence.   
  
And was therefore to be feared.   
  
*   
  
"He likes you," smiled Quatre. "The dark one. He wants you, badly."   
  
"Of course," said Wufei. It didn't seem to bother him. He stood at the cooker, stirring a pot of beans; adding some sauce and seasoning.   
  
"Your recipes are as persuasive as always," murmured Quatre. He was sat up on the worktop, beside the cooker, legs swinging gently. Tap, tap - his bare heels drummed a slow tattoo against the wooden doors of the cupboards. He wore his ubiquitous shorts, but no shirt this morning. His hair was attractively mussed, as if he'd combed it carefully, but then run his hands wildly through it. He dipped a finger in the pot on the hob, and dragged it out slowly. The thick, rich sauce dripped down from his fingertip - a single, pale red bean hung from his skin. He lifted his hand, and caught the globule of food on his outstretched tongue.   
  
Wufei was watching him. He put down the spoon. Quatre stared back. He poked his wet finger into his mouth, and slurped the rest of the sauce off noisily.   
  
"Tastes good... and full of what you do best, Wufei...sauce and _seasoning_..."   
  
He said no more. Wufei's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him none too gently, back down on to the tiled counter. He stood over the blond boy, as Quatre wriggled to get comfortable, his head up against the wall, his legs still hanging over the rim. His chest was heaving a little more noticeably than before.   
  
"He'll go back to his companion, you know."   
  
"I know. He cares for him. Or thinks he does." He tugged at the shorts the blond boy was wearing - Quatre sighed as they dropped off his ankles, and his exposed cock sprang quickly to attention. A single drop of pre-cum oozed softly on to his stomach, and his muscles shivered in reaction.   
  
"Maxwell's here," he whispered.   
  
Wufei smiled. "Maxwell..." he called, softly. "Duo Maxwell - join us now! He's ripe for us; the dark one. He thinks he's in control..."   
  
"In control of nothing!" broke in the third voice. And this time, the speaker stepped into full view of the kitchen.   
  
It was as if the air rushed suddenly into a gap, seeking to fill it; as if the temperature of the room shook with fear, torn between rising suddenly or plunging down to an icy cold. There was no kitchen at all; there was no ground underneath them. Just the man at the door. A tall, slender, well muscled man. Sharp, sapphire blue eyes; wide, sensual lips. A look of complete confidence - almost arrogance. Long, dark hair, the colour of a wild animal's soft-harsh pelt. Braided behind him, like a girl's. Swinging behind him, teasing at his ass. Shouting out his singularity like a town crier. Not that either of the men in the kitchen doubted that. Nor his superiority over them. Their bodies tensed - the blood coursed more fiercely in their veins. Their pulses rose many beats - and whether from excitement or fear, they couldn't have said. Inevitably, it was from a mixture of both. Neither of them could have told you how the man dressed - if, indeed, he was dressed at all. It didn't matter to anyone. And certainly not _him_.   
  
Wufei smiled; an expression of pure pleasure. He lifted the boy's legs on to his shoulders, gripping his hips with his large, strong hands. Quatre whimpered encouragement. The man didn't speak, but Wufei looked to the far side of the kitchen, and acknowledged some kind of message; his mouth twitched in the smallest of satisfied smiles, and he inclined his head as if to accept orders.   
  
"For the dark one, my twisted master..." he whispered. "Watch me..." He shifted Quatre's legs wider, exposing his white, shining flesh, and the long, slim cock, dark with its eagerness, rising out of the blond nest of hair. Then he pulled his own pants down to his hips, and pressed firmly into the boy beneath him.   
  
There was a cry of pleasure, and a grunt of lust surrendered to.   
  
"It's good," murmured Maxwell. His hand stroked gently at his groin, in the same rhythm as Wufei's thrusts. "The dark one is good. He _will_ be good. But the other - he is sweet beyond my desires. My imagination. My dreams."   
  
Quatre's moans grew louder. " _Maxwell_...!" he gasped. "Duo...touch me -"   
  
The braided man moved towards them, and stood behind Wufei's jerking body. He slipped a hand around the dark-haired man's waist. His body moved gently, in mimicry of Wufei's fucking. They moved together, as if they both fucked Quatre's open, begging body, thrusting into him together. Wufei leant back lightly, and brushed his ass against Maxwell's groin.   
  
"He's been taken only by the one. But he's still waiting for his _true_ one. It makes him..." Duo Maxwell sighed, and his forehead temporarily furrowed. "It makes him more difficult to see. I don't understand that..."   
  
Wufei was grunting - his climax was approaching. Duo stretched his arm further around the front of his sweating body, and grasped Quatre's straining cock. At the same time, he slipped the other hand down into Wufei's pants, and cupped his ass, pinching at the narrow channel between his cheeks. His fingers found the soft bed behind the balls with unerring accuracy - and probed confidently at the tight hole behind, tempting it to flex and pucker up, begging for more. Wufei groaned at the touch.   
  
"The dark one cares for him," mused Duo. "If either of them knows what that means...He wants to possess him. But he's not anyone's to possess!"   
  
Wufei shuddered, and his thrusts became fast and shallow, stimulated not only by fucking Quatre, but by the assured hand at his asshole. It was enough to tip him over the edge. He grunted, bent double as his cock leapt inside the boy underneath him, and his seed spewed out into his tight channel. Quatre writhed under him, legs spread wide and straining to reach around the broad torso, and he wailed as the pressure of the third man's hand on his shaft increased.   
  
"Duo - harder - please, _harder_ -", and he moaned, clutching at Wufei as his climax dragged at his balls, and burst the boundaries of his tortured cock, crushed between them. Duo withdrew his hand, just as the seed began to spurt out. It came out like a geyser, coating both stomachs, as Wufei still lay panting on top of him. Quatre made sounds like soft sobs. Perhaps that's what they truly were.   
  
"Not anyone's to possess. Right?" repeated Maxwell. He lifted his hands from the other two, and stepped away, as if he were removing his very presence from the world. Wufei felt the chill at his back - Quatre the cooling stickiness of an ecstasy now gone, and a shrivelling of his deserted shaft.   
  
"Except perhaps _mine_."   
  
*   
  
Trowa found his feet almost too fast for him, as he rushed back to the room. He was disturbed by so much - by the unreliable car; by the exciting night he'd had with Heero; by Wufei's unnerving touches in the kitchen.   
  
_Exciting_ touches, his mind teased.   
  
_And more where that came from_ , teased the tantalising memory of the Presence. It was still with him - it was in his head; in his eyes. In his crotch...   
  
He groaned quietly to himself - he'd still not had breakfast! No wonder he was so off kilter. He'd rouse Heero, and they could go and find something together, and decide what to do about the car and everything.   
  
But Heero was already up when he let himself back into the room. He turned and smiled at Trowa, a little self-consciously. He had a thin sleeveless vest on, and some shorts that Trowa never even knew he owned, let alone had packed. They were more modest than Quatre's outrageous fashion statement of the night before; but the sight of Heero's slender, lithe thighs was still very stimulating. Trowa couldn't help his eyes drifting that way.   
  
"Hi. Where'd you get to?"   
  
Trowa's mouth opened to reply - then he seemed to think better of it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his arms folded tightly against his chest. "Looking for breakfast - are you coming with me?"   
  
Heero stared at him, a little puzzled at his agitated state. "Sure. I just had a wash, and went for a walk along the corridor - had a look at that courtyard we passed. It looks like it'd be pleasant to sit out there; there's some shade over the benches. And that's a pool in the centre - well, it's dried out at the moment, I guess, though this is just the weather when it'd be great to take a dip -"   
  
"Whatever," said Trowa. It came out like a snap, and he wished for a second he could bite it back. Heero's words stopped abruptly, and his face twisted. Trowa felt like a real shit.   
  
Heero frowned, and he snapped himself. "So what the fuck's up with you this morning? I don't remember you being so _tongue-tied_ last night, when you were licking my ass!"   
  
Trowa winced at the crudity in the bald light of day. Flushed at the delicious memory. "Yeah, but I'm not the one who sprayed curses around like rice at a wedding, and shrieked his needs at a decibel level that'd wake the dead -!"   
  
It was Heero's turn to flush. "You bastard, Trow! You gotta problem with my bedroom etiquette, you can go fuck yourself, and that's not just swearing, OK?"   
  
Trowa grimaced. "No - Heero - look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It was great - you know it was - I mean, it was great for _me_ \- never better -"   
  
Heero sighed. "Sorry, too. It's the heat, I guess. Or - whatever." He busied himself with folding a towel that was already folded. Settling a pile of them that had already been settled. Trowa thought that he was already in a mood, and it wasn't gonna pass any time soon. He wanted to kick himself. Wanted to kick _someone_.   
  
"What about the car?" asked Heero, his back still to Trowa. "We ready to get going yet?"   
  
So Trowa told him the bad news. He sat down heavily on the bed beside him.   
  
"Damn! But you reckon Wufei can fix it, if we get the part?"   
  
"Well, yeah -" said Trowa. "But we don't know when that'll be, and we have to wait for this delivery guy to turn up, and Wufei doesn't seem to know anything else about it -"   
  
Heero put out a hand to him, rather tentatively. "Why are you so worried about it, Trow? Another day or so won't matter. There'll be someone out soon - they have to have food delivered, don't they? We'll either get the car fixed then, or hitch a lift into town."   
  
"I'm not worried, right? But we don't have much money, and there's a way to go yet before we get to the city -"   
  
Heero laughed. Trowa realised it was the first time he'd heard him laugh for a couple of days. "But we've been given an option, to help out - to pay our way for a bit. Don't you want to help Wufei out? With his miraculous cooking? Sounds like you two have had quite a chat this morning already -"   
  
It was a joke, but Heero realised he'd misjudged it. He didn't understand Trowa's tension. He thought that his lover's response was disproportionately aggressive.   
  
"Shut up, Heero! You know nothing about it! I'm trying to make the money last, and do the best for us, and it's nothing to do with Wufei, OK? We've gotta get going - we've gotta move on the fastest we can. But then, maybe you fancy helping _Quatre_ out, eh? Maybe with more than a coupla nails and some yard repairs!"   
  
Heero snorted, his mood instantly defensive. "What the fuck are you saying? You are _way_ outta order -"   
  
Trowa raced on - he was barely in control of his words, now. The Presence was taunting him - mixing the guys together in his head, confusing him. "Don't be so naïve, Heero - you can see it as well as I can! He's dripping with it - the come-on; the buy-one-get-one-free invitation. I saw the way he looked at your ass. The way he _drooled_ over you in the hall, all the time he was spreading his cheeks for a bit of fondling up his hole -"   
  
"You stupid jerk!" yelled Heero. He lurched up to his feet, abruptly. What was going on here? What had happened to Trowa, to turn him like this so suddenly? He couldn't remember them ever arguing - though maybe it was because he never really disagreed with Trowa before. It had made for an easier life for both of them. He was rapidly rethinking that approach this morning. "Who d'you think you are? I choose what I want to do, OK - not you! And I'm here with you, aren't I? Leaving it all behind for you! Dammit, you're _fucking_ me, aren't you? What the hell else do you want from me?"   
  
"Stop it, Heero - I didn't mean - "   
  
"So what _did_ you mean?" Heero was past compromise, now. It had been a hell of a week so far - and now no car, no idea where in the damn country he was, apart from being in a small room with a guy who'd turned from lover to abuser in a coupla minutes. "You've always gotta be in charge of everything, Trowa! Money - car - who looks at my _ass_! You don't think I can look after myself, do you? Always the one to say where we go - when we go - _why_ we go! What the fuck do you know about me, anyway? You think I'm gonna drop my pants for that hot little half-dressed boy - when it's you that's drooling over the stud and his sexy food, and his rippling, _fucking_ muscles -!"   
  
Trowa lifted a hand. He was suddenly disorientated; almost nauseous. The Presence was demanding something else of him - it needed him...   
  
"I'm sorry! I'm _sorry_! OK? Calm down -!"   
  
Heero tried to pull back his racing anger - the words that seemed to have been festering just under the surface of his daily conversation, for some time now. The _feelings_ that had been repressed there, too. "Trowa - you gonna be like that, I'm outta here, OK? I don't need that! That's what I'm running from, y'know? Telling me what to do - telling me I'm always wrong - always stupid -"   
  
Trowa stood as well, and in a single, awkward movement, he clasped Heero to him. He pressed his mouth down on Heero's busy lips, and he thrust his tongue into his mouth to silence him. It was all he could think of doing. It was all he wanted to do. His mouth was greedy, and fierce, and he felt Heero's surprise beneath it; and then his gradual response.   
  
"I didn't mean it, Heero!" he muttered into the dark-haired man's mouth. "I just - it's just that it's such a change, to be in control of my own life at last - to be in charge - not of _you_ \- I just wanna be with you - " He stopped talking, and began moaning, as his hands ran up under Heero's vest, and sought out the small, erect nipples. Heero arched gently underneath him.   
  
"It was so good, Heero - last night - I felt so good -"   
  
He pushed them both backwards, up against the bed. Heero's knees buckled, and he rolled on to his back on the newly straightened cover. Trowa came with him, touching; pinching; stroking; kissing -   
  
"Make me feel good again, Heero - I need you - I want you so much - get these damned shorts off, let me touch you -" He struggled with Heero's clothes, until Heero decided to help him. He pushed his shorts down, the boxers as well; helped Trowa tug his own pants off.   
  
"Guess the day's too hot to go out until after lunch..." he gasped, as Trowa knelt at his hips, moaning soft sounds into the creases of his naked groin. He was aroused, now, as fierce and eager as the first time - as the last time. As _any_ time! Trowa's hands were on his waist - then pinching a nipple - then his tongue was reaching for the tip of Heero's cock, sipping at the drops leaking out. We've never done it in the daytime, thought Heero, dizzy with desire. It felt very different. Lots of things were feeling very different at the moment...   
  
"Yeah...We - should stay in here a while. And we gotta keep ourselves amused, right?" whispered Trowa, and his tongue slid down the soft, warm skin of his lover's shaft. He couldn't believe his desperation - the agony of suspense in his balls. The terrible need for it - the need for Heero. He lifted his face back up to Heero, kissing at his chin - searching for his neck, his tongue. The taste of him. "What do you want, Heero? Tell me whatever you want, I just want to fuck you - what do you want?"   
  
"Fuck me," Heero whispered in reply. He took hold of Trowa's soft hair, smelled the faint traces of both motor and cooking oil in the strands that brushed his face. He sighed, imperceptibly. He pressed him gently back down towards his groin - he spread his legs in blatant invitation. "Just fuck me. As hard as you like. That's all I want, too."   
  
*   
  
Heero stirred lightly in his sleep. From the open window, the noonday sun shone on his face, lighting up the moisture on his lips; the slight sheen of sweat on his heated body. His sleep was deep from exhaustion and the listlessness that came from the incessant heat. But disturbed, too, because he slept so rarely in the daytime. His hand had been flung across Trowa's leg; but now he drew it back. He clutched it around himself, instead. It was an unconscious withdrawal, and never felt by the other sleeping man. Heero gave a soft, drowsy moan - his body was aching and a little bruised, and his dreams were unusually chaotic.   
  
The voice in his head was low, and soft, and it tugged at something inside him that he never knew he had.   
  
In his dreams, he knew he'd heard it before. It was asking something of him. It needed his permission. For what, he had no idea.   
  
It whispered to him. It called to him; begged for him to come.   
  
_You are not anyone's to possess, Heero. You know that. I know that. Come and whisper that to me...I will understand_...   
  
Heero shook his head a little, as if to clear it. As if to push the voice away; to deny it. And as he turned away from the window, reaching instinctively in his sleep for his lover, the voice laughed.   
  
But the laugh was bitter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The day had stretched to two... then three.   
  
"So hot," groaned Heero. He lay naked on the top of the bed covers. He could feel a single drop of sweat trickling down his side. The fan was whirring bravely, but the day was starting as steamy as before. "I can't even bother with breakfast this morning. Does the damned weather go on like this all the time out here?"   
  
Trowa leant over and trailed a hand over his thigh, pleased by the answering shudder he saw across his lover's stomach. He caught up Heero's hand, and tugged it over to his groin - he wrapped the fingers around his growing erection.   
  
"Again?" murmured Heero. The word was plaintive, but Trowa saw the smirk on his face that contradicted it. "More sex _again_? Only twice last night... only an hour ago, when the sun came up...I'm pretty sore, Trowa."   
  
Trowa snorted. "It's not only me who's insatiable, love. I've never known you so responsive - so eager."   
  
"So tasty -" mumbled Heero. He teased his hand up Trowa's cock, and trailed a thin strand of pre-cum from his finger as he moved it away. He rolled over on to his stomach; batted a lazy foot against the coverlet. Then he slid his sticky finger into his mouth, and pursed his lips around it. He looked up at Trowa through half-lidded eyes.   
  
"Yeah," grinned Trowa. He felt his taste buds respond, a dampness in his mouth. "You are _very_ tasty -"   
  
"Surprised you can find room for me, after your disgustingly enthusiastic appetite for Wufei's cooking," protested Heero. He'd been amazed at how much Trowa was eating, especially in this hot weather. And although they'd apparently still got a coupla dollars left to pay for their board, Trowa had started to go into the kitchen at meal times, to offer to help out.   
  
Heero wondered idly how much a room cost here. Trowa didn't tell him - and there was no tariff displayed anywhere. He'd not actually been presented with a bill. Still, he knew that Trowa wouldn't let a debt go unpaid - he was pretty retentive that way. It must have been settled up to date.   
  
"It's good food," Trowa shrugged. He turned his face aside, because he was suddenly afraid that Heero would see something that he didn't recognise. The Presence stirred in the pit of his stomach, as if in anticipation. As if in appreciation... "You know I like my food. He's some kinda genius in creating such meals out of simple ingredients...don't you love the tastes yourself?"   
  
Heero shrugged. It was food, that was all. He thought he'd go help Quatre today, in the yard. He never told Trowa, but since their fight, he had been avoiding the blond. He spent as little time as necessary in the dining room - he took himself out to the courtyard whenever he could, and sat quietly by himself, reading or sketching idly on the back of discarded papers. Luckily, no-one else ever seemed to go there.   
  
This wasn't just to keep Trowa happy, though... there was more to it than that. But he was getting bored of the solitude, now. There was only so much time you could spend reading old newspapers and torn paperbacks, wasn't there? Oh, and fucking on an extremely regular basis, of course.   
  
"The bathroom has been stocked again," said Heero. He hitched himself up on to one arm, the muscles of his chest tightening across his torso. "There's a new massage oil... smells like raspberries."   
  
Trowa felt his mouth go moist at the thought. They were his favourite fruit! The sharp tangy sweetness - the vicious little pips, just looking to spike his tongue as he ate. The burst of luscious taste in his mouth as he bit into one -   
  
"Gonna try it..." he whispered. His hand ran up Heero's outside leg, then rolled into the valley of his inner thighs. Heero's knees slid apart almost instinctively, and there was a jerk of the nerves in his cock, trapped under his prone body.   
  
"Might as well..." Heero whispered back. He rolled up on to his side, and turned his head to the chestnut-haired man. Their mouths met like well practised partners now.   
  
"All over you," groaned Trowa, swiping his tongue across Heero's lower lip. Savouring the early morning saliva there, still relatively cool against the sweat of his own flesh. "I'm gonna smooth it all over your skin -"   
  
"And inside," hissed Heero. "Take it up inside me, Trow. The lube's all gone - we can use whatever else we find. Take your fingers up there, and massage me from the inside out..."   
  
He rolled back on to his back, as Trowa stumbled eagerly off the bed to fetch the oil.   
  
*   
  
Heero gazed lazily up at the fan, blinking its shadow across the ceiling, still only a pale discolouring of dark in the rapidly rising sun. Its tentacles flipped across his naked body, in a slow, hypnotic sprawl.   
  
He wondered at the mirror tiles around it - they were too cracked and marked for him to see much. To watch, perhaps, him and Trowa fucking. He thought - with an extra frisson of excitement - that he might like that. As it was, all he could see were his dark blue eyes, glinting back at him, and the distorted smudge of his nude skin.   
  
He wondered when the delivery guy was gonna turn up - the damned motel never seemed to get short of anything it needed. There was always food at meal times; clean sheets and towels. Another book, when he'd just got bored with the previous one. Plenty of toiletries - he thought about the raspberry oil. It was a seductive thought.   
  
_Hold that thought close_...came the voice. He was used to it now. He would listen to it, or ignore it, as he wished. It was especially persistent when he was in the courtyard - but he was also most in control of it there. He didn't know if hearing it meant he were going mad, or if it were the heat. Or whatever. This damned place...   
  
Trowa was back, spreading himself and the oil all over Heero's body; a greedy Trowa; an assertive Trowa. A masterful one.   
  
Or so he thought, smiled Heero. He welcomed his lover into his arms, and into his body with his usual fierce thrusts. He'd think about it all later on.   
  
*   
  
Trowa walked into the kitchen, seeing the familiar equipment, smelling the familiar aromas of spices and herbs. At breakfast time, there was hot oil and bubbling mushrooms and tomatoes, and fried bread to add to the mix. He'd helped at several of the meals over the last couple of days, as well as clearing and washing up - he'd found a surprising pleasure in cooking, then enjoying what he'd created. He still felt disturbed around Wufei - but he rather suspected that he also found a surprising pleasure in that as well. He was dreadfully confused; he was almost scared of the strong, sensual man; but he kept returning. He didn't tell Heero anything about his feelings.   
  
It was a strange, guilty thing that he held to himself. A consuming thing. A thing that flowed within him; both driven and dragged through by the Presence.   
  
Wufei was there this morning - of course. He always was, though Trowa varied his arrival time, and supposed that Wufei must have other duties elsewhere on the site. Trowa wasn't puzzled by it anymore. He'd also stopped asking when the delivery man would arrive, as he never got a satisfactory answer. Or any answer at all, really.   
  
Wufei looked up, and his eyes fell briefly to Trowa's clothes. To his lower body. Trowa flushed. He wore a thin vest, and a pair of Heero's shorts - he had none of his own, except for old sports shorts, and he'd been glad to leave them behind with his old, child's life. Heero was a smaller size than he was, but these had a drawstring waist, and did well enough for Trowa. It was too hot for pants, he'd argued, back in the room. Heero had shrugged, and agreed.   
  
It was too hot for anything, really, thought Trowa. When he pulled his clothes on of a morning - and sometimes during the day, after a session in the room with Heero - they felt awkward. They chafed; they had an alien roughness to them. Did he want to go around naked? he joked to himself. Though the laugh was weak.   
  
He stared back at Wufei, and was shocked to see an amused flicker in the other man's dark eyes that suggested he knew exactly what Trowa was thinking.   
  
"Your breakfast is ready," Wufei said, in that low, smooth voice. He also had a sleeveless, white vest on this morning, and the usual light, loose pants. They clung around his hips, faintly damp from the growing steaminess in the kitchen. Trowa could see the muscle-swelled definition of his thighs. There was only one plate ready on the counter.   
  
"Heero..." started Trowa.   
  
"He won't be eating this morning," replied Wufei, as if Trowa wasn't grasping for the right words.   
  
"Ah... no, he won't." How did Wufei know? He eyed the food hungrily - God, his appetite never ceased to amaze him at the moment! "I'll eat in the dining room -"   
  
"You'll eat here," stated Wufei. "Sit. I'll bring it to you."   
  
Trowa was too astonished to argue. Wufei brought the breakfast each morning - but never just to Trowa. Never in the kitchen. There were a couple of stools at the corner of the room, set against a clear area of the counter. Trowa stepped back hesitantly, and hitched himself up on to one. Wufei put the plate down in front of him. It was still hot - delivery timed to perfection.   
  
Wufei leant back against the counter and watched him eat. His eyes held Trowa's for a second, then dipped to his mouth. Trowa blushed a little under the scrutiny. What was he staring at? he thought. The food slipping into his mouth, forkful after forkful. The movement of his jaw; the drop of pink moisture on his lips from tomatoes. A fleck of some seasoning on his teeth...   
  
Wufei licked his lips. Slowly. Deliberately. There was a small boxed container beside him on the worktop, and his fingers toyed with it. Trowa assumed it held some food of some kind; there were air holes in the cardboard. Wufei flipped the lid open, and dipped his hand in. His eyes were still on Trowa's mouth. He lifted his fingers out, holding something close within his palm.   
  
"Take this. It's for you."   
  
"No, thanks," Trowa said. His voice was hoarse. He didn't know what he was accepting. He had a feeling it would be more than just the contents of Wufei's hand.   
  
"Take it," said Wufei. "You want to."   
  
At the last minute, as Trowa lifted his hand to take whatever it was, Wufei batted him away. Then he leant forward, and pressed his own fingers against Trowa's lips, forcibly enough so that Trowa had to open his mouth, and accept what he held. He felt a cool, sweet freshness on his tongue. A fruity softness - followed by the tang of a seed or two. A dribble of pale pink liquid ran down his chin.   
  
"Raspberry -?" he whispered, astonished. The flavour was in his mouth, the aroma in his nostrils; filling his senses.   
  
Wufei smiled. Yet again, it seemed he knew exactly what Trowa was thinking. His hand moved swiftly, and his fingertips brushed away the wetness on Trowa's skin. Trowa was vibrantly aware of the dampness of his palm.   
  
_Take it_...   
  
Trowa rolled the plump fruit to the back of his mouth and swallowed. He realised suddenly how close Wufei's face was to his. The man had leaned forward, hands bracing himself on the counter. Either side of Trowa - effectively trapping him there.   
  
Trowa saw, through a haze, the same dark pink stains on Wufei's lips. His thick, bold lips. They were very close to his own...he smelled the raspberry flavour, and he sighed.   
  
It could have been taken as some kind of a surrender.   
  
*   
  
Heero brushed back the hair from his forehead, and coughed out some dust. He and Quatre had fixed up several metres of broken fencing round the back of the building, and the door of the small storage unit abutting the kitchen wall. Now he was stacking up some spare planks inside the store room, ready for any future need. He was going to be finished soon. He stretched his back up, with a small groan. It hadn't been exhausting work by any means, but the heat was mounting steadily, and he hadn't realised how tired he was.   
  
He looked over at Quatre, rolling up a length of twine that they'd used. He marvelled at the boy - who'd have thought he was the type to set to physical labour? But he'd worked as hard as Heero, and shown a steady-handedness and commonsense in the work.   
  
Heero admitted that there'd been some truth in Trowa's accusations. He knew that he found Quatre hot - he was fascinated by the blond's brashness; by his easy sensuality. He'd fought his own for so long - it was astonishing to find someone who was so comfortable with theirs. Even here, in the middle of the yard, Quatre wore nothing but the brief shorts. His chest was pinking slightly in the sun's rays; it made the skin shine. His slim legs bent easily to his task, and there were creditable muscles showing under the pale, soft flesh. He'd flipped open the top button of the shorts, and there was a shallow pool of sweat in his exposed navel. It made Heero feel rather warm in his groin whenever he caught sight of it. The boy was attractive in the way that sin was; he asked to be caressed; he begged without words to be fucked. Heero marvelled how someone could be built that way!   
  
And he was sure that Quatre was aware of his effect on him. Dammit, he was playing to it! He'd raised a single eyebrow when Heero came to offer help this morning. Then smiled, and shown him what was needed. With exceptional _care_. He pointed out the wood, with a steadying hand on Heero's elbow. He fetched tools down from the wall by stretching across Heero's chest, brushing at his body. He showed Heero the storage in the narrow unit, then turned so suddenly that they were pressed up together for a few seconds. Enough time for Heero to feel the swelling in the blond boy's shorts, uncomfortably confined between his legs.   
  
Yeah, Heero knew that Quatre wanted him. A few months ago, he would either have denied such an awareness, or been deeply embarrassed by it. He hadn't seen himself as much of a sexual being. And now look at him! Something had been unleashed when he met Trowa - something that burned, and something that thrilled. Something that nagged at his sleep, and encouraged him to roll into bed with Trowa at every waking opportunity. Or was that only since they arrived _here_?   
  
And what _about_ him and Trowa? He was struggling with it all. During the flight from home, and the frenzied journey - that had been all he needed to concentrate on. To get away from the persecution - to be alone with the man he wanted. The man that he thought he might love... But then they had stalled here - the situation had changed. Now he was learning another relationship, and it was too new for him to know how he should be. And he didn't think that Trowa knew any more than he. The sex was hot - yeah, it was _very_ hot! - but, then, what did either of them know about it, apart from each other? When that was done, he thought that they were already drifting - they were finding some difficulty in conversation outside of bed. Trowa mystified him - his tension. His sudden secrecy, and strange reactions. His need to be in control.   
  
Heero knew that control meant a little more than just who was seme. Heero thought that he was learning a damned sight more since he left home than he'd ever learnt before.   
  
Quatre was calling to him; lifting a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the sky. The shadow was dark across his face and neck - his sweat-damp blond hair was painful on the eyes where the sun struck it.   
  
Heero remembered the lobby, on the day they arrived; Quatre's unfocussed eyes; his panting breath, as Wufei slipped long, strong fingers up inside him. And caressed him with them...   
  
Heero knew what that felt like. He knew how he could be stimulated from within. How he could be brought to a gasping, sobbing climax.   
  
But he wondered _now_ how it would feel to reciprocate.   
  
He wondered what it was, to be seme. To take someone - to enter their ass, and plunge in and out, your cock sheathed in a tight, warm channel, so much firmer and more responsive than a hand. He wished that Trowa would consider it.   
  
A sigh reverberated in his head. He dismissed it, instinctively. But he didn't think it had taken any notice of him. It liked these thoughts in his head - it liked listening to the naked needs; the dark desires; the desperate dreams. It wanted to play amongst them, he knew. But he didn't dare let it - not yet.   
  
He sighed. And always the desire, hot in his belly. What was with this constant horniness?   
  
"Quatre?"   
  
Quatre turned his blond, dusty head up, and gazed at Heero. It was a blatantly sexual, hungry look; his eyes lingered at Heero's crotch, then trailed up to his nude chest - his vest top had also been long abandoned. With a sigh, Quatre let his arm fall back to his chest; he stroked the skin, almost aimlessly. Ran a nail down between his nipples, and watched whether Heero's eyes followed it. Then he walked over to where Heero stood. A trail of sweat trickled down Heero's face, running on down into the hollow at the base of his neck. Quatre reached out, and flicked the trail away softly with his finger. He lifted the damp digit, and holding Heero's gaze, he sucked it into his mouth, right up to the knuckle.   
  
"Tastes good," he said, softly. "I bet all of you tastes good. _Real_ good."   
  
"Quatre... persisted Heero. Heero knew he was dirty and sweaty, and he also knew without a doubt that Quatre would be happy to take him that way. That wasn't what this was about. He also knew he was aroused - he somehow took this as read, nowadays. He noted Quatre's greedy gaze, seeking out the bulge under his shorts. But he wasn't going to be doing anything about it at the moment. There were some answers that he sought.   
  
"What about the pool, Quatre? In that charming little courtyard. Why don't we fix that up, instead of these old fences, out back? It'd be a great facility, especially in the summer. And do up some of the rooms...Why do you let this place get so seedy?"   
  
"The pool?" Quatre's expression shifted. It was more than a little sly. "The pool is fine as it is..."   
  
"What do the guests say about the motel?" Heero pressed on. "The _other_ guests? Where are they, Quatre? What sorta place are you running here, anyway?"   
  
"Questions..." sighed Quatre. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "The other guests have moved on, Heero. They always do. And Maxwell runs the place, not me. I just..." for a moment, his mouth twisted in a greedy smile. "I just take orders."   
  
Heero despaired of him. There were too many odd things here. Too many mysteries. Too much damned heat, too much damned sex... "How did _you_ get here, Quatre? To this motel. And why are you still here?"   
  
The blond flushed. But he answered quite smoothly and, it seemed, sincerely. "Nowhere else to go, Heero. I had plenty of guys wanted to know me at home - plenty of 'em got to know me _well_ , y'know? I was good at what I did - and I didn't cost 'em anything but a few drinks and sometimes a hit. Everyone enjoyed it." He looked almost proud of himself. Heero realised with a slight shock that he must have been a whore of some kind. Whether officially, or just known as such around his home town. He looked at the boyish, gamine looks, and the sexuality oozing out of his every exaggerated move, and he saw how that might be. He wondered what it would be like to buy Quatre a drink and have him bend over for him.   
  
_Christ_! he thought.   
  
Quatre was watching his expression carefully. "Then they got jealous, didn't they? The women - the _wives_. Didn't want their guys sticking it up any ass but their own. When they were the ones rationing it out in the first place, driving the guys mad! Anyway, they threw me out. Dumped me with barely a bus fare and a jacket and fuck all else. Worked my ass through the state until I got here. And then Maxwell took care of me."   
  
He smiled - a broad, almost childlike grin. Heero wondered what age he really was. "I was damned good, Heero! I could do it all, and they all wanted me. Everyone knew me...I was like a celebrity, y'know? You don't forget that easily..."   
  
"And Wufei?"   
  
Quatre's face darkened suddenly, and his whole body language turned from pride to shame. Heero saw his lungs suck in a sharp breath; his arms fold protectively across his chest. "Hey, that's something else. He was messed up when he came here. He was running away from it all. He _wanted_ to forget... but Maxwell took care of him as well."   
  
"What did he do? What was he running from?"   
  
Quatre hesitated. "It was a mistake, OK? He never meant to hurt the guy! There was some fight - something about stealing some of Wufei's stuff. He just hit out - and the other guy's skull was cracked. I mean - he's not a dangerous guy, y'know? Just - a mistake..."   
  
He saw Heero's horrified expression. He shrugged. "Everyone has secrets, Heero. Everyone runs from something or other. It's just that we've found a sanctuary here. With Maxwell."   
  
"But who the fuck _is_ Maxwell?" growled Heero. The heat was nagging at his head again - his neck ached; his limbs were weary. Everything confused him... and the voice chuckled at him.   
  
And then Quatre leaned in to him, and placed his sweaty palm against his chest. He spoke into his ear - very close, very breathlessly. "He's the voice, isn't he, Heero? He directs us - he owns us. We want him. And so we hear him as a _voice_..."   
  
Heero stared. Speechless.   
  
They were standing quite close to the wall of the building now. And suddenly he saw Quatre's attention waver, just for a second. His head jerked slightly towards the motel. As if he heard someone calling him. But there was no other sound out here, except for the bushes crackling in the sun's heat; the occasional bird calling. He watched, fascinated, as Quatre took his hand from his chest, and stretched it out towards the wall - touched his fingertips to it. His eyes closed for a second, and his cheeks flushed red.   
  
Then Quatre exhaled, deeply. And turned back to Heero. The smile was back on his face, though his eyes were a little misty.   
  
He placed a hand on Heero's arm. "We can rest now, OK? Let me relax you, Heero - you've worked hard. Let me clean you up..." His tongue slipped out of his mouth, and ran smoothly around his full lips. Heero imagined, wildly, the effect of that tongue on his sweaty body - like a cat, a little rough, licking at the skin; nipping at his nipple; sipping at his tired, stretched skin. Cleaning all the grime and the aches away...   
  
But Heero had heard the voice again, and suddenly he knew that it had reached for Quatre as well. There was a light in both their eyes that knew a familiar call. They were together in this. It played with both of them.   
  
_Relax_...   
  
And he had _felt_ it, too. The sudden surge of sensuality in the air. How else could he explain this wave of lust that was threatening to consume him? He shook it off with difficulty - shook off the desperate desire to push Quatre to the dusty ground and wrench off his ridiculous shorts, and suck on his swollen dick until he screamed for completion -   
  
Where had that obscenity come from? And - more critically - where was it taking him?   
  
*  
  
In the kitchen, Trowa was bent back over the counter, hands pressing against Wufei's strong shoulders, his mouth filled with the other man's thick, probing tongue. He groaned - he protested; but despite it all, he sucked eagerly and willingly. Again and again, the taller man thrust into his mouth, in a parody of fucking. His teeth nipped at Trowa's lip, breaking a small bead of blood from it. And Trowa gasped, and let the invasion continue. He felt his groin tighten under the inadequate shorts - when Wufei reached for the waist, he welcomed the warm hand sliding inside. He didn't know which he wanted more - Wufei to touch his cock, or Wufei to caress his ass.   
  
Or both.   
  
He wondered how the hell a single raspberry could have caused such agonising _need_ in him!   
  
"He's with us both, now, Trowa," hissed Wufei, in his ear. "Maxwell will have us both, to do his will..." His teeth were at Trowa's neck now, scraping shallowly, as if he played at vampires. It sent a shudder through Trowa's body that he couldn't have hidden if his life depended on it. The hand was inside his shorts, and it was down the front of his boxers, and his flesh throbbed and strained to be grasped.   
  
" _Do it_ -" he groaned, not even knowing what he asked for. His back pressed painfully against the edge of the worktop; his hips were crushed against the wooden door. He felt a cup slide away from under him and fall to the floor with a crash.   
  
" _No_ , not yet!" murmured Wufei. "You like to control it all, Trowa. But that's not going to happen, is it?"   
  
"Wha -?" Trowa's head was spinning. He reached, wildly, his hands aching and not knowing what to hold. The counter, to steady himself - or Wufei, to bring him closer.   
  
"You can only tease for so long. Finally you must ask for what you want. And then you can receive it. I was reluctant once, you know. I didn't want it to reach inside me - to saturate me like it does. You know how that feels, don't you, Trowa?"   
  
"Yes..." he whispered, horrified in amongst his desire. Wufei meant the Presence, he knew. It was coiled inside him - it teased at his reactions - at his very nerves. It laughed, and it scorned, and it drew him wherever it wanted. And just now, that was into a pulsating block of craving flesh - and up close to Wufei's magnificent body.   
  
He broke away. He didn't want to - and yet he did. He was panting, heavily. Wufei stared, his pupils dilated; then raising his hands in a sign of appeasement, he stepped just one pace away from him. It wasn't even a gesture - Trowa knew how easily this man could overpower him if he wanted. Or if _he_ wanted.   
  
But Wufei was still. And so was his calm smile. "No, dark one... you must learn to lose yourself in it! You must learn the joy of being victim as well as victor. That's what Maxwell taught me. He made it the most glorious thing for me." He began to move steadily back towards Trowa, smiling, smiling. His eyes flared with something that Trowa feared was reflected from his own expression.   
  
Trowa snatched up a knife, a thick-bladed kitchen one. He had no idea what he was going to do with it. He just wanted one last chance to gather his thoughts - to state his case - to direct this whole mad situation -   
  
Wufei's eyes narrowed; his head shook slowly. He answered, though Trowa had no notion of having spoken aloud. "No-one directs but Maxwell, Trowa. You know that, though, don't you?" His arm moved out, as if in slow motion, and he plucked the knife from Trowa's hand as easily as a thread of cotton on his sleeve. Then he moved the strong body more gracefully than Trowa would ever have imagined; he gripped Trowa's arm, he twisted him round against his chest, and his own arm clamped tightly against the chestnut-haired man's neck.   
  
And the knife was now in _his_ hand.   
  
It looked far more at home in Wufei's large, strong hand. He flexed his wrist slightly; he held it almost loosely. And it remained a few inches away from Trowa's throat, which was throbbing now with shock. But he held Trowa completely immobile; his elbow pressed painfully on the young man's shoulder; the muscles of his chest tight against his back.   
  
Trowa was helpless. He realised he'd never known what fear really was. A trite phrase - but now a terrifyingly reality.   
  
Wufei's breath was hot on his ear. Trowa bent his head slightly to the side, but then the breath was on his neck, and to his horror, he felt a stimulation; a stirring in his groin. Wufei laughed softly.   
  
"A _victim_ , Trowa....How does it feel? Does it thrill you? Does it scare you? Look at yourself, Trowa! Your cock is harder than ever, and yet you don't know quite how I will react. You want my food, and my body, and you want - _desperately_ \- to surrender to the Presence inside you."   
  
"No..." whispered Trowa.   
  
" _Yes_!" hissed Wufei. "I have you, now - you're powerless. I could take you. I could take whatever you have, and then some. You should be fearful of that. And yet your mind is open to it - your body wonders what it would be like. Do you wonder what it's like to be taken, Trowa? Like you take _him_? Fast, and _hard_? With your heart beating so fast it may burst out of you, and your cock thick and slick with pre-cum, and your balls aching, as tight as they are with need. But then there are hands gripping _your_ hips, so fierce that they leave bruises. Spreading your legs; prising open the cheeks of your ass. And you're filled with a thrusting cock that's even harder, and even faster, and it's tight up inside your barely stretched ass, and someone's balls are banging up close to your buttocks, as you're nailed harder than you've ever nailed anyone else before -"   
  
"God..." whispered Trowa. His face had paled beyond white.   
  
"Imagine it happening to _you_! You've never been fucked, have you? A hot cock up your ass - another man's hands on your shoulders, holding you down to take him in. _All_ of it! But you want it - badly. Everything about you cries out for it."   
  
"No - you don't know -" gasped Trowa.   
  
"You want me to do it," Wufei hissed. "So ask me! Whatever you want... I will do it for you. I will do it _to_ you -! But you must ask..."   
  
Trowa knew that people said there was always one moment of decision - one action, when the choice arose, that would take you down a particular path. He knew he was at that moment. He felt the cold breath of the knife, and the hot pressure of Wufei's erection against his ass. He felt the Presence in his gut, and he let it curl around his thundering heart. He had one brief, flickering moment of thought about Heero, and then that had gone.   
  
"It's not for me to control you, Trowa," murmured Wufei. The muscles of his shoulders relaxed around the other man's neck, and he lifted his arm away. Gently, he placed the knife down on the top beside them. He turned the rigid man around in his arms, and bent to lick at his lips; at his neck. He felt Trowa shiver underneath him. "Not yet. First it must be your desire - your request. For now, I'm at your command."   
  
"Maxwell... he's here?" gasped Trowa. The tongue was soft, it was consoling, it was thawing his fear and his shock, and lighting small flames at the base of his desire again.   
  
"Maxwell is always here," laughed Wufei, softly.   
  
They stared at each other.   
  
"Suck me," sighed Trowa, in a voice that broke on each word. "That's what I want."   
  
*   
  
" _Where_ is Maxwell?" cried Heero. He grabbed at Quatre, but the boy wasn't perturbed. "What sort of twisted fuck _is_ he? What's he doing to you all?"   
  
"Not just us," whispered Quatre. He gazed at Heero's mouth - at the mobile lips, working around the angry words. "He does it to everyone... and they all enjoy it..."   
  
"Christ!" exploded Heero. He wanted to slap this stupid bastard - he wanted to squeeze bruises into the babyish flesh of his arms - he wanted to force his lips down on him, and thrust his tongue into his mouth -   
  
Instead, he let go of Quatre's arms, and stepped back.   
  
Quatre looked shocked at his reaction. As if he hadn't expected such self-control.   
  
"You chose to come here, Heero, didn't you? Don't resist it. Don't resist _me_. Don't resist _him_..."   
  
"No - it wasn't _choice_ -" stuttered Heero. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"You _ran_." Quatre's voice was calm and very soft. And smug. "You ran, because you wanted something you couldn't get at home. You ran, and Duo Maxwell heard your steps. Heard your cries, and your pain, and your loneliness. And he led you here. Whatever you want, Heero, you can find it here. Duo will get you anything you want..."   
  
*   
  
Wufei dropped to his knees on the tiled floor of the kitchen, one arm around Trowa's legs, the other tugging at his shorts. Trowa let them be pulled to his ankles, and the boxers followed. He tried to wriggle them off his feet, but Wufei's hands were already at his hips, so he leaned back, his surrender all the more complete with his feet hobbled together.   
  
The hands were warm and wide, and the pads of the palms caressed the smooth, protected flesh of his inner thighs. He let his knees sag a little, clutching the worktop with his hands, struggling to keep himself upright and awake for what was going to happen to him. The hands were sliding behind, to massage at his cheeks - to run a teasing finger up and down his crack. They caressed his flesh, and then he felt the hot breath at his groin, and the flickering tip of a tongue on his rearing cock.   
  
Wufei's mouth engulfed him.   
  
He moaned. It was incredible! It was so different from Heero's attentions, but he couldn't have explained why. Perhaps just because it was _different_...   
  
He ripped at his vest, pulling it up over his head, his hair getting tangled in the cloth. He flung it aside - he had no idea where it went. His hips were inches from Wufei's face, and it was taking all his efforts not to jerk them back and slam forward, begging to fuck his mouth with his cock. He looked down on the dark head, moving firmly back and forth; he heard the lapping, liquid noises, as he was washed with hot saliva and his own leaking cum.   
  
Then Wufei's hands slid back behind him, and gripped at his ass. The sucking paused - the tongue stilled on his flesh-red, aching shaft.   
  
Trowa gasped with frustrated agony. He heard his vicious panting, harsh in the silent kitchen. His hand wavered over Wufei's head - he had to continue -!   
  
Wufei slid his cock out, to rest on his bottom lip, and lifted his eyes up to gaze at him. He was panting, too, but Trowa knew that he was far from exhausted. His dark eyes were dilated; they were greedy for more of him. It was the most erotic thing Trowa had ever seen. "He does this to you, doesn't he, Trowa? Your lover...? Does he suck you in like this? Does he suck you in as _deep_ as this?"   
  
\- and he pulled Trowa's body forward.   
  
Trowa felt his cock slide back in, deeper than he'd have thought possible - so deep, that his balls rested against Wufei's chin. So deep that the hairs on his groin must have tickled up into Wufei's nose. So deep that when he thrust, he could feel the back of Wufei's tongue, and the tip of that tongue was licking hungrily at the base of him, hot on the wrinkled skin...   
  
" _Fuck_!" he gasped. So this is what it was to be deep-throated!   
  
"Yes," sighed Wufei. The word was muffled; it reverberated around Trowa's cock. "You can have that as well if you want. When you want. Just let me fuck you with my mouth now..."   
  
And he did. That's what it really feels like! thought Trowa, in a daze of ecstasy, fighting the waves of climax that swamped him, then receded - then threatened again. His hips slammed against the man's chin - he plunged into the hot, wet mouth, again and again, and he could think of nothing he'd ever felt to compare with it. Not Heero's mouth; not Heero's ass.   
  
"Have you ever had it so good, Trowa? Has anything ever felt so marvellous?" Trowa heard the words in Wufei's voice - but he wasn't sure that he'd spoken them. Surely his mouth was too busy, caressing his cock - sliding the skin up against his teeth, then down again to slither against his lips, slippery with saliva. His fingers were between Trowa's cheeks, and for a horrified, terrified, ecstatic second, Trowa thought he felt the tip of a long, strong finger dip into the tight pucker of his hole...   
  
" _No_...." whimpered Trowa. Nothing ever _had_ felt so good! He wanted to release it all now - he wanted to come. But he was scared that the pain would be too great - the passion would overwhelm him - " _Never_..."   
  
"Thank Maxwell for that, Trowa," sighed Wufei's mouth. "Come, now." One last, deep lick across the over-sensitive slit, and Trowa almost screamed with his obedient response. He bucked against the kneeling man - he clutched at his hair, not caring if he hurt him. The nerves fled from every limb and into the one concentrated point of his cock, as it leapt against Wufei's lips, spewing its creamy contents into him. Trowa's whole body shook - he watched through blurred eyes, fascinated at the delight with which Wufei licked it all in; drinking it; _savouring_ it.   
  
He slumped back against the counter, pain in his chest from the tension. His cock still throbbed.   
  
Wufei stood slowly, stretching his bent limbs; flexing the superb muscles. "Thank Maxwell," he murmured, again. His mouth came to Trowa's limp lips - his tongue thrust in, swiping drops of cum against Trowa's own tongue, insisting that he taste it. Then he pulled back. He looked up and down Trowa's naked body with appreciation. He stroked slowly at the front of his pants - the bulge inside was large, and looked like it might be impatient. But with a smile on his face, he started to back out of the kitchen.   
  
"The courtyard, tonight, Trowa. Tonight..."   
  
Then Trowa's muscles abandoned him, and he slid slowly down to sit awkwardly on the floor.   
  
*   
  
Heero stood in the sweltering, disorientating sun of the yard, and felt his feet move under him - they turned him away from Quatre's astonishing words. Away from the seductive speaker.   
  
"I'd be good!" He heard Quatre's plaintive cry, behind him. "You should take me! That's what you _want_ , Heero. Who are you saving yourself for? That companion of yours?"   
  
Heero was walking away. He knew he had to get away. He knew what Quatre might say next.   
  
"You're not to be his, Heero," hissed the boy. "Where do you think he is now? He's not with you - because you can't give him everything he wants. And _you_ \- well, you know he's not the true one, don't you? Not for _you_..."   
  
Heero didn't trust himself to do or say anything else. The relative cool of the courtyard called to him, and he knew it was the one place in this lunatic motel that he felt at all at peace.   
  
He let the voice soothe him as his unsteady steps turned into a full and frantic running - for it drowned out Quatre's words.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The evening sun was low, and its heat was a sultry one now.   
  
Quatre lay naked in Duo Maxwell's lap, and suckled gently at his inner thigh. They may have been in one of the rooms - they may have been somewhere else. It wasn't obvious whether they had just finished sex, or were contemplating it. But they were content within their own world. Both bodies were flushed with excitement, and each of them teased softly at the other one's half-erect cock. Quatre's skin shone white and pink against Duo's darker tone; his vivid blue eyes much paler than the braided man's deep sapphire orbs. Duo's long braid hung over his shoulder, stray strands of it moving in the slight breeze of a fan, stimulating Quatre's small, pale nut-brown nipple. They were a gorgeous contrast.   
  
"It was a good day," sighed Duo. It was obviously, in its way, an appraisal of the blond boy. "You served me well, Quatre."   
  
Quatre moaned with pleasure. "The dark one is very pliant, Duo. Wufei enjoys him a lot. But the sweet one..." he sighed, theatrically. "Now, _he_ is a very different matter."   
  
"But he also cares for his companion - they both came to me with that open in their hearts. It has made them most deliciously vulnerable to me. The sweet one - well, he thinks he might love the dark one. But his passion is confusing him. Such passion!" said Duo, in his low, vibrant voice. There was a strong thread of excitement in it. "He knows so little of it yet..."   
  
"What shall we do, Maxwell?"   
  
Duo stroked at Quatre's hair aimlessly. He began to slide his hand up and down the blond boy's shaft more firmly; watching his widening eyes as he did so. When Quatre gave one of his trademark whimpers, Duo Maxwell smiled with satisfaction.   
  
"Bring the dark one to me. Let him discover himself - let him liberate himself. And then he will bring the other one to me, in turn."   
  
Quatre was panting. His hands had slipped away from Duo's body, and they sought the satisfaction of his own. He teased at his left nipple, pinching it to a painful erection. He sucked on the fingers of his right hand, lathering them with saliva, and then reached down to squeeze his own balls. And to slide a couple of the fingers up into himself, begging for his own pleasure...   
  
Duo laughed softly. He watched the boy writhe in his lap, legs wide and straining, finger fucking himself, as he continued to pump him towards climax. "You are beautiful, Quatre! I know why they loved you... I know why they fucked you in preference to their wives..."   
  
Quatre flushed with a pleasure that was so much more than sexual. "You've always understood, Duo..." he hissed. "Saved my precious memories for me... Let me help you - let me please you -"   
  
But Duo shook his head. Perhaps he was saving himself. "Bring me the dark one, and the sweet one will follow."   
  
"And if he doesn't?" gasped Quatre. He didn't intend to question Maxwell, who owned his whole existence. He just wanted this ecstasy to continue forever, and for that he needed to distract Maxwell and his devastatingly proficient hands.   
  
Duo frowned slightly. "He will. Eventually."   
  
He pumped fiercely - as if he had tired of the game, and wanted a speedy conclusion. He withdrew his hand just as Quatre's cock jumped inside his fist, the boy shrieked, and the warm, glutinous cum burst out over his naked thighs.   
  
"He must," mused Duo, aloud. He seemed to have little attention left for the limp boy beneath him, now. "He must."   
  
*   
  
Trowa woke in the dark of the night. He reached automatically for Heero - but the other man wasn't there in bed beside him. Where was he? He hadn't seen him since he stumbled back to the room in the morning. He had slept, then - slept for hours. He'd woken, found food in the deserted kitchen, and then taken himself back to bed again.   
  
Such fantastic sex - such satisfying sleep! He'd known nothing of either until now.   
  
His body felt soft - hot - there were gentle little creases across his naked thighs from the crumpled sheet underneath him. The fan limped above him, erratically, as always. He felt as if he'd been here for months; for ever. The slightest breeze stroked his bare chest. His muscles were sore, and a little cramped - his palms hurt from his grip on the kitchen counter earlier.   
  
The memories flushed his face. Memories of burying himself in Wufei's mouth. Memories of ecstasy, and unbearable excitement - and guilt. He'd not thought of what Heero would think, not once - and, perhaps even worse, he had compared it to Heero's performance. And found the two experiences as far apart as the dry Earth and the hot sun.   
  
Where _was_ Heero? his mind nagged him. How many places could a guy _hide_ at this godforsaken motel?   
  
_He's here_...sighed a secret voice. _But you must look after yourself now. Until he understands_...   
  
Trowa looked round, shocked. He was dreaming, right? He didn't hear voices; nor did he smell strange fragrances. That was Heero's idiosyncrasy. _He_ was the practical one...they depended on him.   
  
He saw a shadow at the dusty window - what may have been a dark head passing by.   
  
_The courtyard_...Wufei had said. He had offered more - whatever Trowa wanted. From him.   
  
Trowa sat up abruptly, reaching for his shorts.   
  
He left the room with indecent haste.   
  
*   
  
The courtyard was an empty, quiet space. Perhaps Heero had sat there earlier, trying to gather his thoughts after his scene with Quatre in the yard. Perhaps he'd looked for Trowa there. For some company; for some explanations. For some comfort.   
  
Whether he had or not, it was silent and deserted now.   
  
The night was cooler than before, though still warm enough to wander about with the minimum of clothing. The sky was clear; the moon was a bright sliver of silver, unobscured by any cloud. The pale light hit the red stone walls of the courtyard and was filtered to a softer, pinker light as it hit the dusty ground. A few tall, thin palm trees clustered in a corner, their rich green foliage a startling contrast in the day, but just a darker shadow now, at night. The floor was paved with large, multi-shaded flagstones, radiating out in a seemingly careless pattern from the centre. The occasional beetle scuttled across them; a rare breeze blew a fallen frond from the trees up against the wall.   
  
Against three of the walls, there were low, wide stone benches, for visitors to sit. For the last few days, Heero had been the only one to make use of them in the day; a way to pass the time. He'd found some peace there - he liked the pleasant arrangement of the paths; the dark red dust against the light-coloured stone. He'd meant it when he asked Quatre why they didn't make more of the courtyard.   
  
But there was no sign of Heero here tonight.   
  
The pool in the middle of the courtyard would draw the eye of any visitor; it was set into the ground, surrounded by a low, circular wall of dark red brick. It was small, but deep, and large enough for a couple of people to take a dip - to balance themselves on the lower step, allowing themselves to be submerged. Perhaps to sit on the edge on a summer's day, and trail their feet in the cooling water. But it had been sorely neglected. It had run dry, and to see it in the daylight, there was clear evidence that the base stones were cracked. Even in the benevolent shadows of the night, it was obvious that it hadn't been used for a long while.   
  
So perhaps it was a trick of the night, that when the breeze whispered next in the trees, there seemed to be an answering splash from within the pool. A gentle ripple against the wall; a glint of water in the moonlight.   
  
And the passing shadow of a tall young man, with braided hair.   
  
*   
  
It was later, now. The moon was higher, and the courtyard occupied.   
  
Duo Maxwell sat comfortably on one of the stone benches at the side. He leant back on a cushion, propped against the wall behind. There were a few other cushions at his feet - a couple of blankets across the edge of the bench. He wore loose pants, in a fabric that looked and moved like silk, and nothing on his chest. His shoulders were broad and straight, his neck long and white in the lowering light. He was attractively muscled - nothing too obvious, yet with the promise of strength. The braid was lying easily across his shoulder, the curling end draping into his lap. He was barefoot.   
  
"Where is he?" he murmured, gently. But neither of the men standing in front of him was fooled. He was angry - they knew the signs.   
  
Quatre wriggled a foot into the seam between two stones. He wore a different pair of shorts, in a thin khaki fabric, though they were as brief as ever, barely covering the cheeks of his ass. He wore a feather pendant, on a thong round his neck; and nothing else. He, too, was barefoot. "He's here. Of course he's here. Where would he go?"   
  
"That's not what I meant," replied Duo. His voice was ominously calm. "I know exactly where he is, physically, every minute of the day. Do not be so obtuse, Quatre."   
  
Quatre hung his head. His shoulders shook like he might cry.   
  
"It's his mind that's gone," said Duo. His voice grew a little in volume. "I cannot reach it. He won't listen to me."   
  
"How can that be?" ventured Wufei. He wore his usual, silken pants. And, also, nothing else. He rested his hands on his hips, but there was a slight shake to his wrists that belied his habitual composure. "You can reach us all."   
  
"He is using his passion to resist it," sighed Duo. "It's such magnificent passion! He has no idea how strong it is...it has been such a joy to lose myself in it. But he needs me to help him channel it! To reach his true potential." He was suddenly aware of the others, staring at him. He had maybe said too much to them. They couldn't really understand the depths of this matter - the depths of _him_. But they were his companions - the only constant ones. He needed their approbation and respect. He needed much more from them that they ever knew.   
  
"Is he the true one?" whispered Quatre. " _Yours_?" Despite his pouting misery at being scolded, his eyes were alert with curiosity. And something that looked like alarm.   
  
"Be quiet!" snapped Duo. "It's no business of yours, is it? I allowed you both to play with them, and it seemed you'd served them well. But now...now I can't reach him."   
  
Quatre gave a strangled sound in his throat. Wufei glared at him   
  
Duo's eyes were narrow slits, shining in the dim light, with a sharpness that cut at them as surely as the knife that had threatened Trowa's fragile equilibrium. "Did you hurt him, Quatre?"   
  
Wufei cast a curious look in his direction. He was not used to seeing such disturbance in Maxwell. Such insecurity.   
  
"Never!" protested Quatre. "He felt it, Duo - he felt Wufei and his lover, from the kitchen. I _know_ he did. I hoped it would excite him. But I think that it upset him."   
  
"He was not to be upset," replied Duo, sharply. "You were to please him!" His eyes caught Quatre's, and the blond shivered. The pupils within Duo's gorgeous blue depths were chill, and dark, and hard.   
  
"I tried..." whispered Quatre. "But he didn't want me."   
  
Duo's eyes widened, but with some kind of pleasure this time. Quatre wondered what he'd done to inspire that, when he'd failed so spectacularly before. His heart began to beat a little more steadily. His cock throbbed gently at the thought of Heero. He'd wanted _him_... but now he must wait for Duo to fetch him for him.   
  
"He'll come, you said," spoke Wufei, softly. Appeasingly. "I can feel the dark one coming to me. To _us_. That will be good, won't it? And then his lover will follow."   
  
Duo's eyes were on something far away, now. He nodded, slightly. "It will be good, indeed. The dark one's fresh, and full of desire, and he wants to be with us. I've said before - he's very fine."   
  
"So..." murmured Wufei. "You will have him, in the end. _Both_ of them, if you wish."   
  
Duo's eyes focussed back on the other man's face. Wufei was a few inches taller than he; but he bent very slightly before Duo, as if he were bowing to him.   
  
"You're right, Wufei." Duo looked like he might be calming again. His eyes roamed over the man's classic features; down to the throbbing pulse in his throat. "You're very wise in these things, aren't you? That's what I like about you - your calm sense... your care in everything you do...and touch...you are my strong one..."   
  
Quatre sighed, and a smile crept back to his face. He had looked almost frightened before.   
  
Wufei smiled only for Duo. But he, also, seemed to know that a crisis had passed. He slid a hand around Quatre's bare waist, holding him close by - and with his other hand, he reached around Duo's neck, to draw the other man to him as well. As Quatre snuggled up to his side, grateful for the resumed attention, and nuzzling at his shoulder with his hot, slick lips, Wufei leant over and pressed his mouth against Duo's. After a moment, the braided man returned the embrace. His hand cupped Wufei's chin, and his tongue thrust into the dark-haired man's mouth. Wufei gasped with delight, and Quatre felt the shiver through his body, as he accepted Duo's response. They kissed, fiercely, fully, their hands reaching to stroke each other's body, and Duo's neck stretched out sensuously under Wufei's protective palm. Wufei dropped his lips to the man's neck and shoulders, lapping softly, rhythmically. Duo moaned, softly. With satisfaction.   
  
Quatre was fully aroused, and was already reaching out hesitantly to caress Wufei's bulging groin. He didn't dare approach Duo's... he doubted he'd be allowed near the man for a while, now. That was how the punishment would go, for upsetting the sweet one.   
  
And then he knew it would be worse than that, because Duo's hand reached out from behind Wufei's torso, and he pushed Quatre away. "Wait..." he hissed. His eyes were half-lidded, but Quatre knew he was watching him. "You must wait...it's Wufei's turn, now..."   
  
He turned his head back to the dark man, and their mouths were hungry on each other again. He drew Wufei down on to the bench, and his hand slid inside the thin fabric of his pants. Quatre stood to one side, frustrated and miserable beyond anything, and he watched Duo's firm hand wrap around Wufei's fierce arousal. He saw Wufei tug at the pants, releasing his groin to the night air. He saw Duo's eyes close, and his mouth suck on Wufei's neck, so that the taller man winced, and cried out, none too softly. Quatre gasped, and flipped open the top button of his shorts. His hand slid inside, to touch himself. He ached. Duo had hurt him, and rejected him, and left him to satisfy himself -   
  
But he was magnificent, and Quatre wanted him no less than he ever did! Every second of him, every inch of him...   
  
He watched the two men caress, his tongue moistening his lips. And all the time, with perfect familiarity, he pumped at his own arousal.   
  
Duo's hand also began to rub, up and down Wufei's shaft, tugging the skin with him, thumbing the silky pre-cum over the tip, and teasing the head as he did so. Wufei groaned aloud, his hands clutching at Duo's shoulders more fiercely, and his hips jerked eagerly against the other man's hand. His breathing grew hoarser - his head fell back.   
  
"Take me, Maxwell," he hissed. "It's been too long..."   
  
"No!" replied Duo. And suddenly his hand slid deeper, up against Wufei's groin, and his fingers pinched at the base of his cock. The impending climax hiccupped, and retreated in frustrated chagrin. Wufei groaned again, more desperately. Duo sighed into his neck. "You deserve it, I know. But I want you to be ready for your visitor, when he arrives. I want you to be desperate for _him_ , Wufei. I want him to know what it is to submit to that - to _beg_ for that. And then to stretch open his body, to let that desperation use and abuse him, just as it wants. To satisfy its own need. Not just _his_ , as he has used the sweet one."   
  
"But it _will_ be his need as well," gasped Wufei. Duo's hand on the base of his cock was agonising. The thoughts of Trowa, and his raspberry-scented breath, and his smooth, flexible body, was additional torment.   
  
"Yes," replied Duo. And he smiled, at last. He lifted his head, and directed his lazy-lidded eyes at Quatre. He released Wufei's cock, and with the same hand, moist and glittering in the moonlight, he beckoned to the boy.   
  
"Dance for us. Show me your skills, little one. Your twisting, turning body - the slow moves of your beautiful, smooth flesh..."   
  
There were genuine tears in Quatre's eyes. "Is it my turn, then, Duo?"   
  
"It is," the braided man nodded. "You always do your best, Quatre. And it's always _good_..."   
  
The blond boy flushed. He slid his hand back out of his shorts, and he drew himself up. He was back in favour - nothing else mattered. There was music in the air, suddenly - but from no apparent source. And not like a sound system - or material instruments. Just a thread of melody in the air - turning with each rare breath of wind. Bursting across the silent stones; then bubbling vibrantly in the water. It emanated from Quatre himself; from the hand he held up gently; from the hip he dropped deliberately down on one side. From the wide, pale-blue eyes that sparkled with delight at being the centre of attention.   
  
He began to dance to it.   
  
It was a lap dance; a pole dance. It was sexy, and provocative, and his body bent like melted chocolate, and was just as sweet to watch. Wufei sat up from the bench, and smiled in encouragement at the boy's movements. Quatre reached an arm high up above his head, running the fingers of his other hand down it from the wrist, to the soft underside of his upper arm, and into the sensitive hairs of his armpit. He lifted and bent both arms back behind his head, stretching his narrow, boyish chest so that that nascent muscles flexed and tightened. Then he started to sway, taking small, measured steps, as if to a routine that only he knew, and moving steadily around the circular pool. His bare feet brushed at the dust on the stones, tapping rhythmically on their uneven surfaces. His hips twisted from side to side; the thonged pendant leapt on his chest. His tight, young ass swung easily as he turned his body, and the cheeks rippled teasingly from under the flimsy fabric of the shorts.   
  
It wasn't a feminine dance - it wasn't elaborate. It didn't hold its roots in any formal style. It was just Quatre, showing off his body; showing his enjoyment of his good looks, and his bubbling energy. Inviting admiration for his sense of rhythm; for the display of fine bones, and tight flesh, and the strength of a still-growing boy.   
  
Duo stood up from the bench, watching him. He knew that Quatre would feel him; would know that he was with him in every turn; in every suggestive thrust of his pelvis. He felt the warmth that his little one always brought him.   
  
Quatre was biting at his lower lip; humming softly under his breath, accompanying the mystical musical notes in the air of the courtyard. His hands caressed his chest, tugging at the feather; teasing tenderly at his nipples. He dipped fingertips in his navel - thrummed the beat against his lightly muscled stomach. His touch paused at his hips; his fingers nudged at the waist of his shorts, pushing them away from his body, away down his legs. Bringing both heels together in a sharp, smart movement, he let the clothing drop to his ankles, and he stepped free of it. He was naked, now.   
  
Wufei gave a sharp gasp, the sound heard clearly in the still night air. There was nothing else to hear, except for the sultry notes, and Quatre's own, shortening breath.   
  
Quatre lifted a foot up on to the low wall of the pool; his ass was lifted, pert and provocative. He ran his hands down his thigh, over a kneecap, and down the calf to his ankle. Then he slid them back up, caressing the flesh, pressing down into the valley between his thighs. He dropped his head, so that his blond, damp hair fell over his forehead. He looked up through the curtain it made, searching for Duo. His lips pouted; his eyes asked for attention. His whole pose demanded it. He was mischievous; he was sardonic. He presented himself perfectly - he knew himself very well.   
  
But Duo was behind him, suddenly, a hand on his hip; his finger sliding teasingly down between his naked, sweaty cheeks. "Do you remember, Quatre?" he whispered into his ear. Quatre sucked in his breath, and the smile on his face broadened.   
  
"I remember..." he moaned. The white-blond strands of hair whipped gently against his face, as his head tossed from side to side. "Their hands... their pleasure... their praise, as they touched me..." His eyes half closed. He smiled at the private joy of his memories. The music was slower now; softer. He crossed his arms over his chest, and ran his hands smoothly and seductively down his sides as he swayed.   
  
Duo had passed him now, dropping his own pants to the ground, and kicking them to one side. He was as naked as Quatre. He stood, watching the boy as he writhed, and stroking lazily at his half-erect cock. The broad strength of his shoulders ran into the shallow knobs of his spine, and from there, down his back, to a tender dip at the base of his spine - the swell of his ass was seductive enough to beg for a hand's soft touch; the little shadows between his buttocks and his thighs whispered a promise of juicy tastiness. His hips were narrow, spawning strong, slim legs. The nest of hair at his groin was chestnut brown. His limbs were perfect; his body was perfect. There wasn't any other description that anyone would have sought.   
  
For a second, he looked up towards the walkway. And he smiled.   
  
Then he stepped over the low wall, and lowered himself slowly into the pool. There was the sound of water breaking over his feet - drops of moisture flew up and flecked the dry bricks as his body dropped. No-one seemed surprised that the pool was suddenly filled, and in use, and the dry abandonment of the daytime had miraculously vanished.   
  
And Quatre danced on.   
  
*   
  
Trowa stood, half hidden by the walkway. He was entranced! He had seen the braided man caress Wufei - touching parts of him that Trowa, himself, wanted to touch. He had seen him direct the boy in his astonishing, erotic dance. He had seen him slide, naked, into a pool that he'd never known was there. His heart raced, rather too fiercely for comfort. A superb body, he thought. A superb man!   
  
He knew he had at last seen Duo Maxwell. And there was something vibrant about the man; something sharp, and poignant, and agonisingly gorgeous. Not just the delight of a sensually perfect body. Something more - something that would draw a person to him; something that would make your day start with him; your night beg for him. A charisma that called to you; that caressed you. That told you that you were the best of all.   
  
I don't even know him! thought Trowa, dazedly.   
  
_Oh, but you do_! came the voice, full of amusement. It sounded like the Presence.   
  
Of course... thought Trowa. He was too dazed to be surprised at anything, now.   
  
"And you know _me_ ," murmured another voice at his ear. A deep, rich one, that he knew well, inside his veins. Wufei stood only a foot away, leaning towards him. His shock fought with his excitement.   
  
"Welcome, Trowa Barton," said the tall, dark-haired man. "I hoped you would come tonight."   
  
"Come and join us!" called Quatre, his voice happy with exhaustion, his feet still making steps around the pool.   
  
" _Enjoy_ us," added Wufei. And he took Trowa's unresisting arm, to draw him into the courtyard.   
  
*   
  
Duo Maxwell sank deep into the warm, soothing water, his arms braced on the walls, holding his head and shoulders above the surface. He sighed, as the small waves and eddies licked at his muscles. He saw Wufei stroke the side of Trowa's face - and although the young man looked shocked, he made no resistance. He saw Quatre hopping with his own brand of excitement around the pair of them.   
  
He turned his mind away from them for a short while.   
  
"Come, sweet one," he murmured. His face was flushed - there was a light in his eye that reflected a deep, selfish concentration. "He wants you. They all do."   
  
He let his head hang back against the stone rim; his eyes closed. A brief grimace chased across his expressive face.   
  
"And I'm waiting for you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa stepped up to the pool, Wufei's arm around him, Quatre's hands brushing against him, as if he tried to make it seem an accident of his dancing. But the touches lasted just a little too long for that.   
  
He looked down at the man relaxing in the water, and their eyes held each other's gaze. Duo looked pleased at his confidence. Trowa felt ridiculously proud of himself. And there were other mixed, unusual, disturbing feelings inside him. He felt very young; very excited. Like he was arriving at a new friend's house for the first time!   
  
"But you _are_ ," smiled Duo. And this time, Trowa knew that he _hadn't_ spoken. Somehow, this man reached into his thoughts and turned the page, without him feeling a thing. Trowa tried to relax. He tried to feel comfortable. He didn't know what he may be offering himself up to, but he knew that he had little control over it. His eyes flickered between Wufei and Quatre. And kept returning to Wufei, like a moth, captivated by a flame.   
  
Wufei's breathing speeded up. He gazed back at Trowa. Quatre stepped a little back from the pair of them, and his eyes met Duo's. They smiled knowingly at each other.   
  
"You like Wufei, Trowa," came Duo's soft, hypnotic voice. "He's always been the one for you. He will show you what you need - what you want. Do you want that?"   
  
Trowa gasped, as if his breaths were like needles in his throat. "Yes..."   
  
"Dance, Wufei..." murmured Duo. He shifted inside the pool, pulling himself up so that the water ran down his shoulders. He perched himself on the step, still half submerged. "It's your turn, strong one. Show us how you dance to forget."   
  
Trowa stared at the tall, dark man in front of him. "Forget? I don't understand. What do you have to forget?"   
  
Wufei's expression darkened. His body tensed. For a second, his eyes rolled into his head. Then his shoulders squared, and his back straightened up. His head settled back, and there was a burning in his eyes. A slight smile teased at the corners of his mouth.   
  
And the music began again.   
  
*   
  
So very different, this time... a deep, slow, beat, that throbbed through the very floor of the courtyard. Trowa felt it up through his body; he looked around in vain for the source.   
  
"Forget, Wufei," came Duo's low, caressing voice. "It was a past that has now been shed. You are new. You are free of it. It cannot touch you here..."   
  
Wufei's feet came to attention, and his arms stretched powerfully forward. He swayed, once, leaning to the beat. Then there was the sound of clapping - of a rhythm marked out by feet and hands, and laughing, cheering compatriots. He turned; he looked back over a proud shoulder. His hands waved in a smooth, graceful motion, as if he swung a silken cloth in front of him - his back arched, and his head twisted sharply, as if he faced an invisible foe.   
  
Like a matador! thought Trowa, though he'd never seen one perform. He was petrified where he stood. He was thrilled beyond anything! He had never seen such movement - such fluid perfection, as the tall, strong man danced. Such an air of arrogance; such pride! Wufei turned again, and strode with the beat, marking a wide circle around both the pool and Trowa himself. His arms struck out, to provoke the imaginary beast; his body spun and leaned, to escape its equally imaginary charge. Dust flew up under his sweeping footsteps. His braid whipped against his neck, and his eyes were half closed. Trowa caught his gaze a few times, but he saw no recognition there. The man's mind was elsewhere - his actions for another time and place.   
  
The music in the background was gaining speed and intensity. There was sweat on Wufei's forehead, and the shine of more across his chest. His ribcage was beginning to heave - his movements were becoming more frenzied. His eyes were almost entirely closed, and Trowa wondered how he could see where he was going. The night was dark, even with the moonlight - but Wufei's steps were sure, and never faltered. His hands stabbed at the air; his hips thrust with the beating noise.   
  
Quatre sighed in the background. Trowa felt as if he'd ceased to breathe.   
  
When Wufei spoke, the sound was a shock. His voice was low, and had a very different timbre from usual. "I am free. It cannot touch me. Forget the man I was. I am Wufei -"   
  
"You are free," echoed Quatre, his higher voice a strange contrast. It was like a mantra. And it seemed to satisfy Wufei. The music spun up to a single, hammering beat, and he came to an abrupt halt, his body stretching up, his arms wide. In that moment, his head turned, and he looked directly at Trowa. The gaze reached down into the stunned man's chest and squeezed at his lungs - it stabbed at his heart.   
  
It wrenched a sharp, almost painful response from his groin. He thought he might fall.   
  
And then the music ceased, and Wufei relaxed.   
  
*   
  
Quatre was at Trowa's shoulder, a hand at his back, as if he knew that he needed support.   
  
"You are magnificent, Wufei!" Duo said. His eyes were bright in the half light. "You are spectacular -"   
  
Wufei's breathing was slowing down, but his eyes never left Trowa's. They were greedy; they were seeking satisfaction.   
  
"Show him, Wufei," sighed Quatre. "Show Trowa what he needs."   
  
"Trowa must ask for him," Duo murmured. He lifted a hand from the water, and gestured slightly at Quatre. The boy took Trowa's left arm. He rubbed his groin softly against the slim thigh; he reached a gentle, teasing hand to the front of his shorts, and tugged playfully at the string.   
  
" _Ask_ , Trowa," urged Duo. Trowa felt the man's eyes burning into him; the curling mockery of the Presence inside his gut. He saw Wufei's sweat-soaked face only inches in front of him. He felt Quatre, the seductive blond boy, easing his shorts down, and trailing fingertips over his rising erection. He should have been embarrassed, he knew; having a strange young man start to undress him. Another two virtual strangers watching it happen.   
  
But still he stared at Wufei, astounded by his performance. He _ached_ for him in a way that he'd never imagined.   
  
"Do you want him in you, Trowa?" Duo's voice was just a purr in his mind. "To take you? To _fuck_ you? You've never had that before. You've never felt that before. You're like a virgin." Quatre stroked his cock; Trowa could see it, jutting out in front of him; the small hands all over him. They were like feathers on his tortured flesh. The boy was whispering sweet, encouraging noises of his own. Duo's voice was persistent. "Or do you want to take him yourself?"   
  
"Or both?" sighed Quatre, suddenly wrapping his soft, eager hand around Trowa's cock.   
  
Trowa jumped. His nerves were strung very tightly; his desire was like a vice around his groin. He lifted a hand as if to reach to Wufei.   
  
"Take me," he said. His voice was very quiet in the night air. But very clear.   
  
Wufei smiled, and the lust flashed in his eyes. It was all he needed - the request from Trowa himself. It had to be that way, to become possible. He moved towards Trowa, putting his hands on his shoulders, and dipping his hot mouth to the trembling lips.   
  
"This has to happen, Trowa. You want it. You've wanted it for a long time now. You've waited so patiently, and now you don't need to wait any more. You _need_ it..."   
  
"Yes..." whispered Trowa. "Please, Wufei...I don't want to wait any more..."   
  
Quatre was slipping the crumpled fabric of his clothes out from under his stumbling feet, until he was naked. Wufei placed his large hand with astonishing gentleness at his neck, the long, broad fingers stroking at his thumping pulse. He stared at Wufei's mouth, hearing the words, wanting more of the kisses he knew that mouth could give. That he'd seen being given to Duo Maxwell. His cock was raised high and angrily red, and his thighs ached with the anticipation. He remembered the man's strong, thrilling parade around the courtyard - the strength and control of his muscled limbs.   
  
"It'll be so good," murmured Wufei. "I can make you feel like no-one else can. But you know that, don't you? It was always me - always me, that you waited for."   
  
And now it was happening! thought Trowa. His face was caught up into Wufei's hands, into his strong, generous hands, and his tongue was sweeping through his mouth, sucking at the swollen lips, probing deep inside, tasting the sweet passion and the sour need.   
  
"I want to suck you!" he gasped. He was panting - his head swam. Wufei's face fell away from his, his dark eyes searching Trowa's and finding the promise of pleasure. He still held Trowa's head in his hands. His breath hitched. For a second, he looked over at Duo, as if for sanction. But he obviously received it, for he turned back to Trowa with a slow, hungry smile.   
  
"Do it, dark one," he sighed, and he pushed firmly at Trowa's shoulders, forcing him down on to his knees, naked on the cool flagstones. Quatre was busy at Wufei's pants now, tugging gently at them, so that the material whispered in the stillness, and fell down from his hips.   
  
His cock was exposed to the night air; Trowa had a good view of it at last. It was large; it was long. His whole body shivered at the thought of it plunging into him. It was so much darker than Wufei's shining, sweat-sheened body; so much softer than the harsh, curling hairs that bedded it down. His mouth watered. He grasped at Wufei's hips, like he'd been grasped himself in the kitchen, and he took the cock into his mouth. The taste was - it was Wufei, that's what it was! and it was the taste of lust and laughter, and the loss of both innocence and inhibition. The best meal this man had ever made for him...! He began to lick, running his hand softly up and down the base of the organ, where his mouth didn't yet reach. He gathered the balls into his palm; rolled them gently against each other; rolled the wrinkled skin against the smooth pads of his hand. He felt Wufei's legs shake against his face; his voice moan with pleasure. A wide palm pressed down on the top of his head, urging him to continue. To do more.   
  
Trowa saw Quatre out of the corner of his eye, bending briefly over the pool - he heard a soft squeal behind him, and an answering murmur from Duo. They were caressing, he knew that. And yet he still felt their eyes on him; their talk was about him. Suddenly, there was a breeze behind his kneeling body, and warm, smaller hands at his waist. Quatre's. And then the nimble fingers were at his buttocks, easing them apart. He flinched - his teeth catching suddenly on Wufei's shaft, so that the standing man groaned.   
  
"Hush..." came Duo's voice, distracting him, drawing his attention back to his service of Wufei. Where _was_ the braided man? He seemed to be all around them; watching, admiring, directing their moves...yet the pool was out of Trowa's actual line of sight. All he could see were the muscled thighs, straining against his hands - the crinkled, nubbed sacs, wrinkling in delicious anticipation. "Hush, Trowa," came Duo's persuasive tone. "Let him touch you. He just prepares you. There should only be enough pain to appreciate the pleasure. Quatre understands this."   
  
The fingers were wet, and they stroked around his hole, soothing the tension, stimulating the nerves. One slipped in, and Trowa tensed quickly. Pain? he thought. Is this how it would be? Wouldn't there be lube? Or something to ease the way...he was panicking. Then Wufei's hands came to his head, and pacified him.   
  
"Relax, Trowa. It'll be fine. You must trust me. We only need Quatre's touch, to stretch you for me. You must be ready for me. I want more from you than your mouth. Oh God, _yesss_...!" He was shuddering now, Trowa felt the shock of his rising excitement, the weight of his body starting to lean more against him. The cock inside him was hot in its own right, and starting to swell, pressing against the roof of his mouth. He felt another slight panic, in case Wufei came suddenly - would he swallow him? Like he'd been swallowed, himself? Could he do that? And now the finger in his ass had retreated, and there was the hot, wet muscle of a tongue, licking in its stead; lubricating him, stretching gently at the entrance.   
  
Trowa groaned - nothing had ever touched him there, except Heero's daring fingertips, and he'd always flinched away from continuing anything else. But the tongue was firm and persistent, and it stroked from the soft, sensitive skin behind his balls right up to his entrance, again and again. And when it thrust eagerly into the tiny, puckered hole, although he cried out, his legs stretched wider apart, almost instinctively.   
  
Quatre laughed softly, full of delight, and there was a dribble of saliva running down Trowa's leg. The boy's tongue fucked gently, rhythmically, for another few strokes, until Trowa was relaxing even further, and his sucking was as confident as before. Then Wufei grabbed at his hair, and stilled him. He slid his cock out of Trowa's mouth; it glistened with moisture and its own desire.   
  
"You can have more if you want, Trowa," he panted. Trowa felt the loss of the shaft in his mouth; the tongue had stopped invading his ass so thrillingly. He was bereft.   
  
"Yes," he gasped. Inside him, the Presence was strong. It was exhilarated.   
  
"You're perfect for me, Trowa. I want you. You want to know what it's like, don't you?"   
  
"Yes!" he almost shouted. The Presence flooded him; it swamped his senses!   
  
Wufei grinned. He looked over Trowa's bent head, and shared a look with Duo. Then he lowered his hands, slid them under Trowa's armpits, and lifted him back upright. He stepped away from the pool, almost carrying Trowa's body along with him, and he pressed him against the nearest bench.   
  
Trowa sank down on to the cool, hard stone surface, panting, his back nearly against the wall. Wufei stood before him, his eyes raking over his nakedness, over his outstretched legs. Then the dark-haired man put his hands to his shaking thighs, and spread them even wider. Trowa felt his muscles crying complaint. He felt the breath of Wufei's desire on his skin, as the hands pressed his legs up as well, lifting his feet off the ground, and bending his knees back towards his chest. Trowa felt his hips sink back, and his pelvis tilt up. He threw his hands back behind him, to hold himself up in a half-sitting position. He knew that he must be totally exposed - his balls and ass were open to Wufei's gaze. And that's where he was looking - with eyes flecked with his pleasure.   
  
"I don't know uke - " gasped Trowa.   
  
He heard a genuinely happy laugh from Quatre, behind Wufei's shoulders. "You do, now, Trowa! Wufei is the best at teaching _that_ -!"   
  
Trowa stared at Wufei. He flushed. "They can all see us..." He was barely aware of what was happening here. But he knew he was naked, in the open air, with strangers watching, and offering his ass to this astonishing, enigmatic man.   
  
"Yes," Wufei smiled. "They always will. That's how it is. That's how you'll want it." He stroked at Trowa's pink, tight hole with a possessive fingertip. It was still damp with Quatre's saliva. Trowa groaned.   
  
"Lift me!" he hissed. "With those arms. Lift me, and take me - _hard_! Now!"   
  
The muscles of Wufei's upper arms clenched, as he knelt on to the bench within Trowa's straining thighs, and his hands moved to take hold of the other man's hips. With an easy move, he lifted Trowa up, pressing his back up against the bricks of the wall, and settling his pelvis on to his lap. Trowa felt his balls resting on Wufei's bent, naked thighs. He leaned back, panting; the wall's surface was slightly abrasive on his shoulder blades. He felt the hands tightening on his hips, and he was shifted so that his hole touched against the tip of Wufei's cock. Wufei held him there; the strong arms held him like a child, and yet he was still being allowed care and gentleness, until he was ready. He moaned, softly, with the anticipation. Wufei touched at his balls, briefly, with a comforting stroke, so that he shuddered, and was - possibly - distracted. But rather than delay it, he stretched his legs wider - spreading them around Wufei's back. He tried to force his pelvis higher, to make a better angle for penetration. He heard Wufei's murmur of delight at his eagerness.   
  
Then strong fingers bit into his buttocks, he was pulled firmly down on to Wufei's lap, and the man's cock thrust into him.   
  
Trowa was shocked; he cried out. He fell forward against Wufei's chest, clutching at his shoulders. The pain had slashed through him, as the thick organ forced through his entrance, and up into his channel; the incredible sensation of being taken shook his whole body.   
  
" _Jesus God_!" he cried. "No - _wait_ -! Fucking _hell_ -!" He wondered when the hell he'd started to swear as easily as Heero did. His whole body sweated - his head ached. He felt Wufei pause under him ; it must have taken great self-control. There was a murmur of encouragement into his ear; then he was lifted up slightly again, and another thrust took the shaft even deeper into him.   
  
Trowa sobbed. But this time, he felt the warmth of Wufei's cock, and not the ripping pain. The rhythm began, and he started to move his body with it. He was impaled; he was invaded. He was Wufei's! He began to grunt softly with each movement. The sound was one of pleasure, now.   
  
He was aware of Quatre, crouched beside the bench, kneeling in the dust. His grinning mouth leant over him and latched on to a nipple. When Trowa felt the little thread of lightning dart from the soft brown tip to his groin, he wriggled, and moaned. Quatre's hand teased at his erection, trapped in his lap, neglected and desperate. He was barely aware of it; he felt only the man moving inside him.   
  
" _Harder_ -!" he groaned. "Fuck me - I can feel it all -!" He wanted Wufei to be in him forever. The rocking became frenetic - they grasped each other like driftwood in a raging sea. Wufei shifted the body on his lap, and Trowa felt a sharp pressure, stabbing at an already over-sensitive patch up inside him. The wave of pure pleasure shocked him. He whimpered - tried to cling to that position, so that Wufei would strike him there again. Wufei was groaning as his climax approached - but Trowa was there already, crying aloud with amazement and ecstasy as his own cock, crushed between their stomachs, hiccupped and spewed its completion over their sweating skin. With a shout of gratification at his own coming, Wufei shuddered under him, and gripped him so tightly that he felt the bruise spring up on his arms. There was a swelling inside him; a heat that increased; a rush of warm liquid, some of which trickled out down his inner thigh.   
  
They fell back against the wall, melded togther like one person.   
  
*   
  
It was later, again. Trowa had lost all sense of time, and he had no watch to help him. There had been a blanket on another bench, and now he lay on it, on the ground, near the pool. He could hear the water lapping, so someone was bathing there.   
  
He lay beside Wufei, both of them still naked. For a while, he'd been licking at his seducer's cock, and Wufei had stroked his hair as he did. Now he was stretched out on his stomach, hip to hip with his lover.   
  
Hands came back to his ass, but this time he didn't flinch, although he knew they weren't Wufei's. It was Quatre - of course it was. He stroked him; he probed mischievously into him. That sweet spot inside - Quatre seemed to know unerringly where to touch him. Trowa moaned with a rising pleasure.   
  
"May I take you, Trowa? May I have a turn?"   
  
He was turned on to his side, and the soft young body pressed up against his back, spreading his legs apart. Quatre sighed with delight. Trowa could feel the boy's arousal up against his buttocks, leaking its eagerness on to his skin.   
  
He didn't mind. In fact, when it entered him, the hard, smooth cock was a joy to him - a fresh feeling; another delicious astonishment. There was little pain - he assumed he must be stretched now. Or perhaps he was still lubricated from Wufei's warm, sticky cum. He gazed up from the blanket, and saw that Wufei was watching them. The dark-haired man smiled at him. He reached out and touched a finger to Trowa's lips; Trowa sucked on the tip.   
  
"You're so good, Trowa..." came Quatre's sexy whispering, tickling between his shoulderblades. Trowa felt his own cock stir and respond. "I didn't want Wufei to have all of you to himself. Would that be fair?"   
  
The boy groaned, and his head rested on Trowa's shoulder; his lips caressed the base of his neck. His hand slid around Trowa's waist, to hold his cock tightly. He thrust much more quickly than Wufei, and his skin was cooler and softer against his ass. Trowa realised this was the first time he'd been fucked from behind.   
  
And he wasn't distressed about it. He wasn't embarrassed. He liked it.   
  
He cried aloud when he came, and no-one was shocked or horrified by it. Quatre laughed along with it, and stroked his back to soothe him, and thrust only a few times more, before he shuddered, and released the burst of his seed up into him.   
  
And then Wufei leaned over and lifted his head, hand on his chin, and kissed him deeply. For a long time. He was glad, then, to offer his ass to anyone who wanted to use it. For as many times as they liked. So long as he could see that pleasure in Wufei's brimming eyes.   
  
And Duo Maxwell allowed them to play.   
  
*   
  
Duo came to speak to him a little later. He brought him some food, and a glass of wine; Trowa had never been a great lover of alcohol, but this was a sweet red, and warm on his tongue. He liked the way that Duo sipped from the glass before he passed it to him, and then ran his own tongue across his lips in appreciation. Trowa thought that he would ask him to bring some more, later. It was refreshing, in a rather seductive way.   
  
Trowa didn't think that Duo had fucked him as well, though he had felt the penetration and the thrust many times tonight. And sometimes, it had been his turn to be inside a hot, tight sheath; his hands around a muscular waist, pulling hips against his groin. Everything was a little blurred in his mind, now; he was deliciously worn. And the others seemed tired, as well. Wufei's hair was shaken loose with exertion, and the sweat had dried several times on his muscular body. Quatre was wet from washing himself in the pool, and dancing some more, and then he'd bent his head to Duo's lap, and then there was more laughing, and splashing, and washing off the excitement of their caressing. Everything felt good, thought Trowa; everything felt sensitive and sensual, and the moon had never been so sharply bright.   
  
Trowa knew that he wanted Duo, as well. Wanted to share in him.   
  
"Trowa, you are my dark one, now," he smiled. "You can be what you want - have what you want from us."   
  
"Can I have you?" whispered Trowa. He felt the frisson of the wine in his mouth, still. He wanted Duo's full lips on him; the supple hands on his flesh. He knew that Wufei would want him to enjoy it. And Quatre would be there, too.   
  
"Not yet, Trowa," replied Duo. He laughed softly. "Though you are a treasure..."   
  
"Is it because of Heero?" asked Trowa. The guilt stabbed at him again - he was missing Heero..."Will he understand this? He'll be angry with me -"   
  
"Heero?" mused Duo. Trowa saw something in his eyes that flashed with a glittering intensity. "This is just fun, just pleasure, Trowa. He can have the same enjoyment, when he comes here. He'll understand that. And he'll still want you, Trowa..."   
  
"Will he want _you_?" asked Trowa, curiously. Duo moved very smoothly, very swiftly - but he seemed so often out of sight. Trowa thought he might still be naked. He might still be damp from the pool. He might be dressed. Trowa had no idea about him at all, but it didn't seem to matter.   
  
Duo laughed again. "Maybe! But for now, I just like to watch you all."   
  
Trowa was distracted again; Wufei was smiling, and kissing his neck, and Quatre's fingers were playing with his tangled hair, his boyish lips lifting up for his kiss. "Will Heero like to watch, as well?" came his gasping question.   
  
He heard Duo's breath catch with barely suppressed excitement. "I think so, Trowa. But he must come here, first. We're all waiting for him. Will he come tonight, Trowa?"   
  
Trowa was shrugging, but it was difficult in the fierce embrace of Wufei's arms. He thought that Duo's voice might have sounded a little uncertain - but surely not?   
  
"Will he come to find you, Trowa? Will he come to find _me_?"   
  
*   
  
The call came shortly afterwards. Trowa lay on the blanket, soaking up Quatre's soft, fierce little kisses. Wufei paused in his leisurely sucking of Trowa's balls, and lifted his head. He tilted it, as if he listened carefully to something other than the night's fading wind, the whispered moans of the young men, and the occasional bubbles of the pool.   
  
"Maxwell..."   
  
"I know," the braided man interrupted. He had been kneeling at their feet, stroking at Trowa's slim calves, watching all three, and their caresses. He had been silent, and relaxed.   
  
But now there was a bright, sharp light in his eyes. "I can see him now."   
  
"He's here."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero woke suddenly; he sat up, bolt upright. What was the thumping of his heart? Fear? Thrill?   
  
He wasn't in room 6 - he had found another, unoccupied room. There may have been a number 4 on the door, he didn't really remember. Not that he thought there was any issue with going in, and using it - he'd never seen another occupant at the motel since they arrived. And somehow he knew that all the rooms would look the same - they would all be made up the same, with thick, deep pillows, and soft, clinging sheets, and a bathroom ridiculously well-stocked with personal toiletries. He had just chosen the first that he came to, and closed the door quietly behind him.   
  
He had left Quatre in the yard, while the morning sun was still high and hot, and at that time, he had no thoughts except to hide. To be away from the sultry, cloying appeal of the blond boy; to be away from the lover that he knew was slipping away from him. To think more carefully - and painfully - on what was going on here.   
  
He had run back towards the courtyard, seeking the peace that he sometimes found there. He wandered through, forcing his beating heart to calm down. Here had been a sanctuary of sorts, discovered by him in the last few days - a pale-stoned and empty place, with a thin carpet of red dust. Dry air; nothing moving but the trees, their foliage high and waxed. No, there was nothing specific that endeared him to the place... but there was a charge here, that he found nowhere else. A strange comfort - and at the same time, a disturbing one.   
  
He'd known he wouldn't find anyone else around. And yet where could they hide, here? Where was Trowa - was he with Wufei, the man who could seduce him with rich food, and even richer temptations of the flesh? Or with Maxwell - this mysterious man who ran the whole show?   
  
He sat, but was restless on the stone bench. His mind nagged at him - his body sulked, with unsatisfied, unspecified lust. So he had risen from his seat, and made his way back to the guest rooms.   
  
The voice had returned to him, then; _I'm only for you, Heero. I'm saving myself for you, Heero. Come to me_...   
  
He'd leant back against the door of the room he'd chosen, as if it might protect him.   
  
He'd thought that sleep was the answer. Too much sun had distorted his thoughts - he would rest, and then things would be calmer.   
  
But that wasn't to be, was it?   
  
*   
  
It was night, now. The fan here was faster than the one in his other room - but his body was still drenched in sweat.   
  
He groaned, lifting his feet off the bed. He was still in his shorts, damp against his legs. He'd slept on his vest, unintentionally - it looked like a rag. He knew he needed a shower, or at the least a wash - and he'd have to go and get a clean shirt. The nights were cooler, and he felt a slightly ridiculous need for some more clothing. He didn't know if Trowa would be in their room. Didn't know if he wanted him to be. He'd face that eventuality when he had to.   
  
The voice was whispering for him. Calling him. He'd ignored it so well, so far.   
  
But now he knew he'd get up, and go to find it.   
  
And perhaps Trowa would be there.   
  
*   
  
There were noises in the courtyard. The night was still hot, and his clean shirt was already sticking slightly to his back. There was moonlight, and a slight breeze, and - he thought his ears were deceiving him! - the sound of water in the sunken pool. He stopped his steps a little short of the end of the walkway, and listened. There were gasps, and soft laughs. A few, fast footsteps, like dancing. Grunts, shaken out of a body - a cry, and then a drawn-out moan that was unmistakably one of approaching climax. Heero flushed at the sound - he knew it too well.   
  
It was Trowa.   
  
He stepped around the shadow of the last room, and gazed at the scene in front of him.   
  
The courtyard was bathed in shadows that blended from a midnight blue black, to cool, steel grey. But the shadows moved; individually and together. There was the flash of white teeth in a smile - the shine from a sweat-soaked body. There were towels beside the pool, and the evidence that people had bathed there - that there was inviting water in it once again. There were baskets with some fruit and bread in them, and pastries, and a few half-empty bottles of dark, red wines. Cups stood on the stones, one of them on its side, rolling occasionally in any breeze.   
  
There were two men, standing beside the pool, melded together in the night-time light, so that they could barely be distinguished individually. Two heads leaned close together - an arm appeared out of the centre, then snaked back round the combined torsos. Ran down someone's side, then back up again. Legs pressed against each other, holding each other upright. It was a very intimate, and sexy scene.   
  
As Heero stared, one of them broke away, and put a hand down to the pool wall. His hair swung about his shoulders in a swathe, and Heero saw from the man's height and bearing that it was Wufei. He was talking to another man, in the pool - there was the soft sound of his laugh. With his head still facing the pool, he reached for a wine bottle, and poured out a cup.   
  
Heero's eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light, but even without that, he would have known the man in the pool as Trowa; relaxing, with his arms stretched out on the low walls. Trowa, who raised his head to Wufei, and smiled in return. Wufei put the cup to his lips, for him to drink. There was another soft laugh, when some of the wine spilt down Trowa's chin. Wufei leaned further down, and his tongue slipped out to lave at the other man's pale throat. Heero felt a stab of some unidentified emotion in his gut.   
  
They were all naked, and the various skin tones blended like a painted canvas against the muted background of the courtyard, and the glittering surface of the water. But the bodies were much more alive than a canvas - they were very active indeed, and their warmth and amusement could be seen as clearly as if invisible brushstrokes mocked at him.   
  
Heero gazed at Wufei's careful, covetous touching of Trowa's neck. It made his heart ache. And when he tore his eyes away, and turned back to look for the other man, he had gone.   
  
*   
  
There was a splash, and a head broke from the pool's surface, beside Trowa. Heero saw short hair, plastered to a young, smooth skull. Water flowing down over the slim, narrow shoulders. A boy who pulled himself smoothly and easily out of the pool, stretching his arms, and shaking off the excess water. Quatre, of course. He stood beside the crouching figure of Wufei, and put a hand to his shoulder, to steady himself. His laugh was a loud, musical sound in the sultry air. He, also, was naked - Heero could see the profile of his half erect cock, as he unfolded his limbs.   
  
Quatre had been in the pool with Trowa; under the water; naked. Heero examined the confusing, disturbing feelings that brought. Without a doubt, he knew that Quatre had been pleasing Trowa. With his hands; his mouth; whatever else he could use.   
  
He'd heard Trowa's cry of completion, hadn't he? He knew.   
  
He stood, staring at the trail of wet that Quatre had left in his wake. He marvelled that the pool was now full of water. When the hell did that happen? _How_ the hell did that happen? Why, in God's name, was he worrying about such stuff?   
  
Trowa stood up in the water, balancing on the step. He reached up for Wufei, and the taller man took his arm, holding him upright. He passed the cup of wine to Quatre, who slid back into the pool, going round to Trowa's other side. He laughed again, as one foot slipped a little, and his hand encircled Trowa's waist, anchoring himself. Trowa never turned to him, but gazed up at Wufei - the larger man leant over again, and they kissed. Very deeply; tongues fierce and hungry. Heero heard Quatre's sigh on the still air.   
  
The blond boy was trailing his fingers in the wine, lifting them up, to let most of the dark-shadowed drops trickle back into the cup. He reached his wet hand out to Trowa's chest, and aimlessly painted a meandering pattern across the pale skin. It was a jagged pseudo-scar, in the dim light of night. Then he leant forward, and started to lick at the liquid; his tongue flickered against the dark nub of Trowa's nipple. Heero had done that himself, many times. Trowa liked it, he knew.   
  
Heero wondered why he wasn't as distressed as he probably should be. His lover - the man he thought he was having a relationship with - was in an intimate, sexual menage a trois, yet all he could think of was how gorgeous they all looked together.   
  
To his mild astonishment, he felt the stirrings of arousal between his own legs.   
  
And then the fourth man joined him.   
  
*   
  
Heero was aware of him, even before he became visible. He was almost silent, but his breath was on Heero's bare shoulder as he passed - his feet padded gently on the flagstones behind him. And then he was beside Heero, watching the tableau in front of them. And yet Heero knew he was really watching _him_.   
  
The voice was still only in his head. "Welcome, Heero Yuy."   
  
"You are Duo Maxwell," he said, softly. The man nodded. The smell of citrus was very sharp around him; it tantalised Heero's senses. "You've been speaking to my mind. You've been saying things that are quite outrageous..."   
  
Duo smiled, and it was like the ripple of the wind chimes in Heero's head. "You _can_ ignore me, Heero. Sometimes you do, don't you?"   
  
"But - sometimes I can't," sighed Heero.   
  
Duo was taking form beside him, like he'd drifted in on a smoky mist. Or maybe it was just the heat, and the thumping of his heart, distorting his vision. The man was half nude, and he could see the shine of the moon on the flesh of his upper body. He wore a towel around his waist; this parted easily as he moved, and Heero caught the flash of smooth thigh. He was a little taller - a little slimmer than Heero. His skin glowed luminescent in the moonlight - his hair reflected auburn lights, and the braid teased mischievously at his hips. There were fingertips close to Heero's thigh, for Heero could feel the living heat from them. Duo had obviously been the man in Wufei's embrace, when Heero first arrived, and Heero sighed, unconsciously. He understood why anyone would want to embrace Duo Maxwell. He wanted to reach out and take his hand - to touch that skin.   
  
There was a strange lassitude all over him; he had never been so tired - nor so relaxed. He struggled to decide whether he liked the feeling, or hated it. He had wanted to see this man, so very badly - and he wasn't convinced that his reasons were entirely explicable.   
  
"Ignore me..." murmured Duo. "No, that's true...sometimes you can't." It was the first time that Heero had heard his voice aloud. It didn't disappoint. It was low, and rich, and musical. And very seductive. It was as familiar to Heero as his own - as soft as velvet; as comforting as a fresh, clean bed at night; as thrilling as the day he met Trowa and was first allowed to touch his body. "You're not always so strong. Sometimes, you are more open to me. And I do love to talk to you - to reach you, Heero."   
  
"When am I more open to you?" whispered Heero.   
  
Duo laughed, softly. "When you love Trowa Barton, of course. And when you hate him, as well..."   
  
Heero shivered. How dare this stranger talk about him and Trowa like that? His tone became aggressive. "Are you some kind of a ghost? I know that I'm only seeing you now because you want me to. But you're always there! First it was the smells; the aromas that only I could smell. And then the voice. It was you, wasn't it? It _is_ you."   
  
"Yes," replied Duo. "It's always been me." Then he was in front of Heero, obscuring his view of the writhing bodies in the courtyard. Heero looked into wide, dark blue eyes - saw the thick, lush lips smiling. "I'm not a ghost, Heero! This is no ghost house. Everyone is very much alive." He paused, and the look that he gave Heero was like a warm hand, stroking down his back. " _Very_ much alive. We've been waiting for you to join us."   
  
Heero stepped back. But Duo moved with him - always that tantalising hand's width away. It didn't seem obvious - and never did he touch him. But he was with him, all the same.   
  
"So you're the voice!" he said, harshly. He felt, rather than saw the other young men pause in their caresses in the pool - turn their heads towards him and Duo. "I guess I was interested to see what you looked like, in the flesh..."   
  
Why did he wish he'd never used that particular phrase?   
  
Duo quirked an eyebrow. His gaze was amused. "So now you see me!" Heero saw the skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "And so what do you propose to do with me?"   
  
Heero scowled. He turned his head to the side, almost as if he tried to avoid Duo's gaze. Though the other man did nothing to force himself on him.   
  
You're _here_ , Duo Maxwell! snapped Heero, to himself. It's not like you need to do anything else!   
  
Duo's grin spread across his face. There was suddenly the light of something feral in his eyes. He gestured towards the nearest bench - and started to move forwards, herding Heero back towards it. "Come and sit with me, Heero. Talk to me. I know that you want to learn about me. As I want to learn about _you_."   
  
Heero sat down, rather heavily. Quatre had left the others at the pool, and joined them at the side of the courtyard. He didn't sit down, but then Duo slid into the space on the other side of the bench. Heero found himself flanked by two gorgeous, near-naked men. He knew his face was heavily flushed - he knew his body raged, mocking him with its insubordination.   
  
"Will you take wine, Heero?" asked Quatre, his voice a study in pretended innocence. "Or will you take _me_?" He laughed at Heero's shocked face. "Wine it is, for the moment, then -"   
  
"No!" gasped Heero. "I - I don't drink much. Water?"   
  
Quatre raised his eyebrows - shot a quick, disappointed look at Duo. "Of course, Heero." Heero hadn't seen any water jugs by the pool, but Quatre didn't go back to the motel - he just leant down beside the bench, and reached for something there. His naked ass bounced, and pressed lightly against Heero's thighs - his hand brushed against his hip. The skin was cool, even in the hot evening, and still damp with droplets from his dip in the pool. Heero shivered, and knew that Duo would have seen it. When Quatre straightened up, he held a cup and a glass jug of cold water. The sides of the jug were clouded with condensation - Heero could see the steam from the surface; hear the blessed tinkle of ice cubes. His mouth watered. Quatre handed him the filled cup, and he drained half in one gulp. He could feel Duo's eyes on him; he thought he was watching his throat.   
  
Quatre was also watching closely, but then he stepped to stand in front of them both. He stretched a hand in front of him, parting the two men, and he leant against the wall. His head dipped down; his blond hair whispered against Heero's ear - but it was Duo whom he gazed at. Duo lifted his head, to look directly into his shaded eyes.   
  
Quatre opened his mouth slightly, and a smile teased at the edges of it. They could both see the glint in his mouth of an ice cube - the tip of his tongue rolled it gently behind his teeth. He put his weight forward on to his braced arm, and he dropped his lips down on to Duo's. Heero leaned away from them, instinctively, but he stared, fascinated, at their wet, hungry mouths; the short little breaths that came from Quatre's greedy kisses; the flickering of their probing tongues.   
  
"Kiss me some more, Maxwell," gasped Quatre. He pressed the melting cube to the front of his mouth; it wiped a cool trail across Duo's swelling lips. "Take it into your mouth - lick it out - lick me out, Duo..." His panting became harsher, and his hand rested on Duo's shoulder.   
  
Suddenly Heero's hand darted out and grabbed at Quatre's arm. Quatre paused, surprised - he drew his head away from Duo.   
  
"Heero -?"   
  
"Stop it, Quatre!" he said. His voice rasped - he barely recognised it as his own. His own breathing was too shallow, surely, to support the throbbing in his chest? "I - want to do that myself -"   
  
Quatre pursed his rich little lips, and the ice cube was sucked back in. With a slow smile, he straightened up, his arm withdrawing lazily from the wall behind them. He looked at Duo to get his reaction.   
  
Duo was staring at Heero; entranced. Greedy. Eyes shining. Like a hawk watching its prey. Quatre wondered if he'd been looking at Heero that way, all the time, even when he was kissing him. He swallowed the remainder of the cube, and the cool water pulsed in his throat - but no-one was watching.   
  
"Go to the others, Quatre," came Duo's low, slow command.   
  
Quatre shrugged. He turned, and walked back to the others - his hips were swinging; though he knew the two men on the bench still weren't watching him. He moved towards the pool, intending to drop back in, but at the last moment, Wufei caught at his arm and stopped him.   
  
"Come here, bright one," he growled. His eyes glittered with something both affectionate and keen.   
  
Quatre let the pleasure slide back into his face. "You asking?" he hissed. His animal-bright eyes flickered between Wufei and Trowa, by his side.   
  
"We're telling -" came Trowa's reply; his smile was all for the beautiful boy. Wufei turned Quatre in his arms, and bent to kiss him. Hard. The possessive hands were harsh on his waist, and then Trowa's hands joined in, massaging the muscles down his back. The boy was pressed gently between them. When Trowa tugged his hips back, he arched, like a self-satisfied cat - he clung to Wufei, and he spread his legs slightly, in anticipation. Trowa smiled at Wufei, over the boy bent beneath him. He teased, almost carelessly, at his cock, stroking an arousal that was responding enthusiastically. Then he parted the soft globes of flesh that offered themselves to him, and, sighing, he pressed his cock against the silky entrance.   
  
Quatre moaned. Wufei stroked his hair, tugging playfully at a lock of it, as he held him upright in his arms. Trowa began a slow - and tantalising - penetration.   
  
Over at the bench, Heero was staring at the scene as it unfolded. His breath hurt in his chest; he was vibrantly aware of the hot body beside him - the steady breathing that in no way matched his own.   
  
He moaned, aloud. It was as if the sound escaped him, against his will. And Duo touched him for the first time, then. His hand laid itself over Heero's, and his fingers pressed softly at his knuckles. Heero dragged in a breath, and felt the heat begin to flow through his veins more strongly. He didn't understand how that could happen, from just a touch - but he knew that it would only happen with Duo. With this man.   
  
Duo gently took the cup from his other hand. It was shaking.   
  
*   
  
Trowa was gasping, slowly; in rhythm with his thrusts. His hand slid around to the front of Quatre's body, and stroked at his cock as it jutted up from his groin; wet and engorged, and bobbing with their combined movement. Wufei watched them - watched Trowa's misting eyes.   
  
Duo was watching Heero, and his fingertips played carelessly in the water of his discarded drink.   
  
"Heero..." he whispered, but there was no answer. Heero's face was turned away from him - his profile half in shadow as he watched the others.   
  
Duo rolled a half-melted ice cube out of the cup, and into his palm. Thin, silvery drips of the cold water ran between his fingers. The cup dropped to the ground, with the echo of a splash, and a clatter in the still air. He reached up, silently, and touched the cube to Heero's cheek. He was rewarded by a gasp from the dark-haired man; a tightening of his chest.   
  
Heero's senses exploded in his head at this further, sensory shock; he was assailed by the sound of Duo's deep breathing; the sight of the sexual scene in front of him, rich in its playfulness and pleasure. The heady aroma of Duo's particular blend of citrus and lusty body scents. Now the addition of the sharp, burning pain of the ice cube against his taut skin - a shock to nerves already straining to hold together. And over it all, the deep, gnawing ache in his groin that would not let itself be ignored for much longer. That admonished him; that begged him for attention - or for someone else's.   
  
Duo's hand was taking the ice down, _down_ , slippery in his fingers; down to Heero's throat, snagging on its way at his dry lips. Down to the hollows at his shoulders; down to his chest. Heero shivered - goosebumps leapt up on his skin, at the contrast between the sweat and the cold. His dark eyes darted like a rabbit's; from the games in front of him, to the naked thigh at his side; to the glinting moonlight in the sky above.   
  
"So sweet..." sighed Duo.   
  
Then Heero sighed, and his body relaxed. He allowed it. He was entirely passive - Duo's hand passed further down, pushing the thin fabric of his shirt aside. One hand pinched at a nipple, whilst the other brushed the ice almost cruelly against the other. Heero winced - the combination of pain, and cold, and ecstasy - he fought against the incredible feelings that swamped him. A desire - and a longing - and a desperate need.   
  
His hand came down over Duo's, stopping the progress of that man's caresses. Duo's eyes widened. Heero peeled his fingers up - scooped the ice into his own hand. There was little left now - it had melted rapidly, against the heated skin of Heero's torso. Heero could feel the trail of water that it had left, down between his nipples; down to the pool of his stomach; down to the ache of his groin.   
  
He turned to look at Duo, fully, at last. He knew it was probably the most dangerous thing he'd ever done. But every inch of him wanted it. He sank into the wide, jewel-bright eyes; felt the caress of the smooth, flushed skin. He lifted the last, sparkling shard of cool ice to Duo's mouth, and pressed against it. There was a soft, liquid sound, and it opened suddenly - the ice slipped in over thick, red lips. He saw the flicker of Duo's tongue inside, lapping at the moisture.   
  
_Kiss me, Heero_...   
  
But still Heero's reason struggled.   
  
"Why me, Duo? Why didn't _Trowa_ feel you? Hear you? Why hasn't _he_ smelt the fragrances - heard the voices?"   
  
Duo laughed, softly. To Heero, it felt as if one of his hands was still at his chest; as if he still teased at one of his nipples. It was painfully erect - it felt bruised. "But Trowa Barton is a very different person, Heero - you know that already. He's responded in a different way. He has a past that you will never know... a reason for his darkness, and his own brand of strength. He's opened to me more swiftly - he has connected with Wufei, and so I've been with him for the whole time."   
  
" _With_ him?" croaked Heero. He couldn't stop staring at Duo's lips, moving as he spoke.   
  
"With him. Inside him, Heero. In whatever way you wish to explain it to yourself. Because he's wanted that, since he arrived. Perhaps even before that."   
  
"And I haven't?"   
  
Duo's voice caught awkwardly, for the first time. "You're different, Heero. You've smelt the flowers and the herbs, and heard my voice, and the voices of the others - that's more than Trowa has seen and heard, because you are stronger. Because you haven't opened completely to me." The hand on Heero's body felt cold - the chill was like a brand, searing him, in amongst the heat of the air around them. "Instead, you have connected directly to me - and although that holds the promise of more joy, it's - it's _different_ , Heero."   
  
Heero groaned. He wanted that heat - he wanted that chill. But he persisted. "You mean - you can't come inside me, like you have with Trowa, can you? Is it - am I somehow protected from you? Resisting you?"   
  
For the first time, the confidence and the assurance in Duo's eyes flickered with uncertainty. For the first time, there appeared to be pain.   
  
"Is that what you want, Heero? Do you wish to be _protected_?"   
  
There were soft, grunting sounds from beside the pool - Quatre had draped his arms around Wufei's neck, leaving the tall, dark man's hands free, to play with his own cock. His head was thrown back, and he was pumping hard. Trowa was leant down on to Quatre's back, still gripped between his legs, still plunging in and out of the soft shelter of his ass. His hand clutched forcefully around Quatre's shaft, so that the boy was pulled back and forth, as if they were joined as one.   
  
Wufei hissed suddenly, and his climax shuddered out of him, the seed splattering up over Quatre's white-blond hair, and down on to the stones beneath the pair of them. Quatre groaned with the sight, his tongue licking out, as if to try to catch the drops. He bucked hard against Trowa's hips, crying out with his own delight, as his cock leapt in Trowa's hand, and his cum also burst out, with its own, glimmering trail, stark against the shadowed darkness of their bodies.   
  
Heero wondered if he really did see Trowa's head lift up from the haven of Quatre's jerking body; whether he really saw his face turn towards him; whether he really saw the familiar dark green eyes slide close with passion, and his mouth open soundlessly. But there was no mistaking that he felt his lover's gaze crawl inside him, and the imprint of his hands on his own body, and then - with a shocked, horrified fascination - he felt the delicious shudder of Trowa's climax ripple through his own groin, reaching its spurting satisfaction deep into Quatre's tight, welcome body.   
  
*   
  
Heero felt disorientated - his head was elsewhere. His body listened to his words - distant and weak - and his body laughed at him.   
  
"Who are you, Duo Maxwell?"   
  
Duo shrugged - Heero felt the pressure of supple muscles against his shoulders. Duo sat very close to him now. "I own this place, Heero. You call on it, and I must provide what you need. I _like_ to provide what you need. It pleases me. It amuses me. It satisfies me."   
  
"No..." moaned Heero. Duo's hand was on his thigh. His hand was on Duo's. It had never felt so comfortable. "I don't mean...I want to know who you _are_..."   
  
Duo's voice was back in his head. "Who do you want me to be, Heero?"   
  
"No!" he snapped, again. "Don't bullshit me! I want you to be who you really are, of course -"   
  
And now Duo's voice was sharp in reply. "No, Heero! Be honest. None of us want that, not truly. We all have stories for our lives; fables that we wish to be truth."   
  
"Truth..." echoed Heero.   
  
Duo's tone was seductive; persuasive. "You came here, both of you - not with your true selves. You had your own agenda - your own alibis. You wanted to reinvent yourselves, didn't you? Like us all."   
  
_Watch my lips, Heero.... kiss me, Heero_...   
  
"What do you mean -?"   
  
A sigh. Anger. "Heero! What can I say to you?" His eyes flashed - his hand squeezed on Heero's leg, but in frustration, rather than seduction. Heero watched the play of emotions on his face - the dangerous flashes in his eyes. He felt a surge of something inside him that was astonishingly like power. And he knew that he was disturbing Duo Maxwell more than anyone else ever had.   
  
"Heero..." the braided man was tense; struggling in his own way. "You understand more than you think. You have more power than you realise..."   
  
And then Heero leaned forward just a fraction more, and he kissed him.   
  
There was no sound in the courtyard except for their shared breath.   
  
*   
  
Heero stood now, at the side of the courtyard, arm flat against the wall, as if he might fall if he moved from there. Duo was close beside him; Duo was stroking his thigh. Duo was whispering kisses against his ear, and into his neck. Duo's lips were soft and firm, and indescribably luscious; Heero knew that, because he'd tasted them at last, and - as part of their unique flavour - he'd tasted the cool ice water, and the hot desire, and the mixture of fruit and lemons and an earlier glass of wine. He'd never felt so fantastic in his life. He was so very painfully aroused; never had he felt so desperate, not even for Trowa - not even when they were still at home, when they may have been kept apart for days, and had fallen back on each other in their shameful little corners, grabbing and clumsy and so full of lust that it clouded even their words...   
  
Duo shook his head, gently, for he heard Heero's thoughts. "It's not shameful, Heero. It's beautiful. But so much better with the right one - "   
  
"The _true_ one," interrupted Quatre. His voice was strangely sharp. He was back on Heero's other side, naked, and slippery with water droplets. He was a water baby - he'd slipped from Wufei and Trowa's embraces, down into the pool, to wash himself; to wash away the hot, messy attentions of the others. To cleanse himself - inevitably - for the next. Then sprang out again, like a leaping, wriggling fish. Laughing - shaking his hair dry - returning to Duo's side.   
  
Duo glared at him, now, as if he shouldn't have said anything. Heero saw the look, and stored it in his mind. Then the braided man was back to his relentless persistence; the words in Heero's ear, the touches; the temptations. "Who do you want, Heero? Your lover? Did you see him deep inside Quatre? It was magnificent to watch. His confidence - his dominance. My bright one's moans, and the way his body twisted under Trowa's hands..."   
  
Quatre's laugh was brittle, and like the high notes of a piano. Heero gasped under Duo's onslaught. His lips ached to touch him again - his hands waved uselessly at his sides, for Duo seemed sometimes to move too fast to be caught. He was at his mouth - then he was behind him. Then somewhere else, with only the echoing fingerprint of his hands on Heero's body.   
  
"Do you want to be taken by him, like Quatre?" whispered the voice. Quatre smiled; he was tugging at Heero's shirt, flipping the small buttons open - it slipped back off his shoulders, and fell to the ground with a sigh. Quatre's nimble fingers began to loosen the thread of his shorts as well.   
  
"Or do you want to _take_ him? To plunge inside him - to sheathe yourself in him, and feel him trapped beneath you - at your command -"   
  
"I -" gasped Heero. The thought of it made his heart skip out of synch. The fingers were all over him - "We never -"   
  
Quatre laughed with pure pleasure. "But he is so gorgeous, Heero, when he's taken! He melts into you - he moves with you like he belongs against your hips. And when he comes, he makes such a soft, plaintive cry - and he begs for you to come deeper; to fuck him _harder_ -"   
  
Heero stared, shocked. "I - Trowa? - shit -"   
  
Duo laughed softly. He drew back from Heero, suddenly; cruelly. The absence of him was like a cold, biting wind on the heat of his desire. Heero realised that he was naked now - he didn't remember when Quatre had removed all his clothes, but there was no sign of them any more.   
  
"Watch him, Heero." He turned towards the pool, and beckoned. "Come to me, Trowa."   
  
*   
  
Trowa came over to where they stood. His eyes ranged across Duo's face, with a searching need - with an anticipation of excitement. And then they turned to Heero. His face flushed - his eyes were almost unnaturally bright.   
  
"Touch yourself, Trowa," murmured Duo. "Like Wufei touched himself. That's what you liked, wasn't it? To see him pleasing himself. Let us see you doing the same -"   
  
"Heero?" Trowa whispered. His hand slipped down to his crotch, gently fondling at his balls. His other hand crept up to his mouth - he sucked on the fingertips. His eyes shone up from under his limp fringe; he gazed at Heero.   
  
"He's watching," came another voice, and now Wufei was behind Trowa, sliding hands around his waist. "And so am I, Trowa. I want to see you touch yourself - show me how well you know your body. Show us your comfort - your control. Show us what you like..."   
  
His head rested gently against Trowa's; Trowa leant back, briefly, to rest against his broad shoulder. Then he started to pump at his cock; slowly; with relish. Heero felt his breath catch.   
  
Duo was there - of course. His voice in his head. His smell in his nostrils.   
  
"Watch them, Heero. You enjoy the watching, don't you? Trowa knew you would..."   
  
Trowa was panting; animalistic sounds that were both low and shallow. He slicked his hand over the top of his cock, spreading pre-cum that shone in the shadows. His hips thrust out at an imaginary lover; his legs bent to support himself. Wufei clasped him tighter, and his body moved behind him, in a copy of his sensual stretching. Trowa ran his other hand down behind his ass, and jerked gently, as he probed a single fingertip up inside himself.   
  
Heero gasped. "Trowa - _fuck_..."   
  
"Isn't he good?" came the reverberations. He knew that Duo was close, now. Back beside him - his breath caressing his naked skin. "He loves you, Heero. But he loves himself as well. He wants this for himself. Doesn't he deserve that? Don't we all?"   
  
Wufei groaned, as if he couldn't bear the passivity any more. His hand gripped at Trowa's neck, turning his head back so that he could reach his lips with his own. He kissed him - he held his chin in his hand, while his tongue thrust into Trowa's mouth, and they moaned passion into each other's open lips.   
  
"They're magnificent together, aren't they?" breathed Duo, with open admiration. "They understand the joy of it so well. The pursuit of pleasure - the satisfaction -"   
  
"The sharing..." said Heero. His voice was stronger than he thought it would be.   
  
He felt Duo tense with surprise. He felt the frisson of delight across the other man's skin, and then Duo's hands were turning Heero's head to him again, his hunger deep in the ocean-blue eyes - expressing something that had passed between them that Heero had almost missed. Heero slid his arms around him - felt the rippling muscles down his back; the mysterious plunge into physical promise in the dip at the base of his spine.   
  
Behind them, Wufei turned Trowa so that he faced the wall; he pushed him forward, so that he threw out his hands to support his bent body.   
  
Duo's voice was aloud now, and panting into his mouth. He was a very real thing in Heero's hands - there was a very real plea in his gasped words. "It's all for you, Heero... whatever I do. Kiss me, Heero -" His tongue was hot and furious in the other man's mouth, probing the corners, pushing against his teeth, and demanding to be tasted. Even though Heero's arms were still holding him tight, his strength was obvious - it thrilled Heero in its own way. He felt Duo's arms wriggle on top of his own - the eager struggle for dominance. He didn't know who was embracing whom...   
  
"I - can't, Duo - I -"   
  
"Hush," moaned Duo. "Let me help you. You're taking strength from us here, Heero. You are more than you could ever imagine -"   
  
"Taking strength?" he groaned. His legs shook - he needed the support of the wall, it wasn't enough to be trapped in Duo's arms, kissing and feeling the strong, supple limbs mirroring his own. "From you?"   
  
"Not yet -" Duo gave a hitched breath. He tore his mouth away - he was still panting. His chest moved jerkily, his stomach tensed above his groin. Heero wanted to gaze at his legs - his hips - his cock. He wanted to reach for it...   
  
Duo's eyes were greedy; they were scouring Heero's mouth, as if to find some last drop of excitement that he may have missed devouring. "Wait, Heero - watch him! He calls for you -"   
  
And so Heero turned and watched the men beside them, as Wufei bent eagerly over his lover's back, parting his long, stretching legs. He watched, as Wufei guided his damp, fiercely erect cock up against Trowa's ass. As he pressed for entry; as Trowa bent further, and put a hand back to pull himself open, ready to welcome it. And he watched, as Trowa's eyes lifted to his, and his face contorted with pleasure and amazement, as Wufei thrust into him.   
  
He watched Trowa be taken. He had never seen his lover show such willingness - such eagerness. And _never_ had he seen him offer submission. Not even when Heero had gathered the courage to ask.   
  
No - never before had he seen such a look of ecstasy on Trowa Barton's face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero's mind whirled. The air was tight around him, like tentacles; like a vice that held and caressed him, at the same time as it pained him. Trowa stood in front of him, bent against the wall, legs apart. Moving under Wufei, with the sharp, jerky movements that showed he was impaled by the dark man - that he moved only as he moved; only as he thrust into him. And he moaned with total pleasure at the feeling.   
  
Heero felt Duo Maxwell move around him then, hot skin prickling at his own. A constant, living presence - an aura around him that was becoming more a part of his self than his own awareness. He'd touched Duo Maxwell - kissed him. He wanted more of him. No - he _needed_ more!   
  
Duo's body pressed against his, then moved away. His hand was on Heero's waist - his lips were on his shoulder blade, suckling at the bone under the thin skin. His hot cock snagged across Heero's thighs; leaking sticky pre-cum; leaving its trail across him. Each time that Heero turned, reaching to grasp him, Duo twisted and evaded his clutching hands. Now he was back at Heero's neck, kissing at his jaw, licking at his earlobe. Allowing his tongue to be caught, just for a few tantalising seconds before his mouth moved away again -   
  
He ghosted past Heero's groin many, many times. Heero's body begged for him to touch his cock - to fulfil the continuing promises. It was a torment that would have made him furious, with any other man. He somehow knew that Duo didn't intend to leave him unfulfilled. But, for now, he was tortured by anticipation and suspense - Duo never touched him further.   
  
He whispered, instead.   
  
"Are you enjoying the show, Heero? Your gorgeous, generous lover? Who do you want to be, Heero?"   
  
"Who -? What do you mean?"   
  
Duo's laugh was smooth as whipped cream, but somehow much warmer. "I asked before, but you never replied...Do you want him to fuck you? Do you want to be the one against the wall, spreading yourself for him; feeling the invasion deep inside you -"   
  
Trowa was groaning now; his ass pressed hard, back against Wufei's thrusts. One of his hands slipped down from the wall, to grasp at his own, swollen, flesh-red cock. He began to pump, in perfect time with the rocking of their joined bodies.   
  
"Or do you want to be the one taking him, Heero - plunging into him? Your cock, pressing past that first, tight muscle; its aching head, bursting through, only to be crushed and gripped as you force your way on in. Embedding your thick, greedy shaft deep into that hot, moist channel; pulling slowly out, only to thrust back into its hungry depths - making your lover cry out with the sensation -"   
  
Heero held a hand up, as if to ward off the words. "I - don't do seme -"   
  
"You _didn't_ do seme!" cried Quatre, in some delight. "Until now!" Heero hadn't registered that the blond boy was so close. But now he felt his vivacious little body creeping around beside him - the innate sensuality of it reaching out in response to his own desperate frustration.   
  
"Hush, Quatre," came Duo's voice. Regaining the control. "I told you, Heero, that I would give you what you want. And that's what you want, isn't it?"   
  
Heero knew that it was. He felt the surge inside him of desire - the thrill of the dream. The speeding beat of anticipation in his veins.   
  
"Trowa..." he groaned.   
  
"Do you feel betrayed, Heero?" murmured the voice that surrounded him. "Don't be angry with him. It's only physical pleasure. It's nothing compared to your feelings for him. Nor his for you. It's just fun..."   
  
"For us!" laughed Quatre.   
  
"For me..." sighed Duo. He was visible again, close up against Heero, and reaching to kiss him. His hands took each side of Heero's face; took his gaze deep into the depths of his own eyes; took whatever he wanted from the aching lips. "Understand, Heero..."   
  
Heero realised that he understood far more than Duo might suspect. Over Duo's shoulder, as their mouths sought each other out, he watched his lover's face - he saw the anguished joy in Trowa's expression of being filled; stretched; invaded. He saw Wufei's look of adoration, as he lay close against Trowa's back; the shudder and cry as he came inside him; his gentle, soothing touch on Trowa's back as his body calmed. It made Heero's heart ache, not for the first time tonight.   
  
He saw Trowa's face, twisted with joy, as it was his turn to come.   
  
"Yes..." he whispered. "That's what I want. When?"   
  
_Soon_ , smiled the voice. He didn't understand why Duo was no longer speaking aloud, until the braided man stepped away from him. Heero almost fell; he put a hand against the wall to steady himself.   
  
_Wufei... Trowa... come to us_...   
  
The two men he called to, slipped apart - still touching each other's body; still smiling; gasping with the delicious aftershocks of their climaxes. They straightened up; they stretched cramped muscles, and laughed to each other. They moved towards Duo, delight on their faces.   
  
*   
  
Heero watched with a horrified fascination, as Duo slid a hand around Trowa's neck, and pulled the slender man's face across to his. His eyes remained on Heero's as he plunged his tongue into Trowa's mouth. They held each other for a time - touching each other's body. Trowa was still sweaty from being fucked by Wufei; Duo's own flesh was flushed from his caressing of Heero. They kissed, open-mouthed - they murmured words into each other's faces that no-one else could hear. Duo moved to kneel on the nearby blanket, and drew the other man down on to his knees beside him. Turned the pair of them, gently, so that he faced Heero over Trowa's shoulder; so that Heero could see his hand as it slid, possessively, over Trowa's smooth ass.   
  
Trowa's head turned so that Heero saw his profile; he was gazing into Duo's dark eyes. There was communication that Heero didn't understand. He felt - suddenly, irrationally - excluded. Duo laughed deep in his throat, an animal sound. He stroked at Trowa's buttocks, almost as if he was considering what to do next. Trowa made a noise of frustration - he arched his back, and his legs spread a little wider apart on the blanket.   
  
Heero stared at them, his body frozen. He was a column of pure emotion. Emotion that wanted to slap Trowa away - emotion that told him he wanted to be under Duo's hands himself. And another, less familiar emotion, that told him he also wanted to watch - to see the gorgeous bodies together.   
  
And - of course - he knew that Duo understood all this.   
  
*   
  
When Wufei reached for Heero, it was almost a shock - he'd forgotten the existence of anyone else for that moment. But he slipped into his arms, without even thinking of it. He needed to be touched - he needed attention of his own! Their mouths met - Wufei's was hot, and eager, and Heero thought that he could taste far more than a single pair of lips. Heero found it unfamiliar, and very erotic, and his tongue thrust back at him, diving into his mouth, sucking at the wet, warm muscle that met him.   
  
Duo was watching him - Heero could feel the deep blue gaze like a knife between his shoulder blades. He knew that they were teasing each other - tormenting each other. He wondered who had initiated this game; who would win.   
  
" _Yes_ ," he sighed. Wufei's hands were at his chest, teasing at his nipples, and he felt his immediate response as the tall, dark man twisted at one. He'd always loved that touch - Wufei seemed to know this, instinctively. The other, free hand slid down Heero's naked stomach - drifting to caress his aching, throbbing shaft. The quest was sure and insistent; and, by now, Heero's desire was a blazing physical need. It was damned if it was going to resist any comfort, whoever offered it! Heero'd whole body flinched at the tight squeeze of his groin - he thrust his hips jerkily towards the closing fist.   
  
There was a sharp, distracting pain in his head; he shook it away. He wanted to come...   
  
Then Wufei drew away. Just as the coiling ecstasy throbbed in Heero's groin, the pumping hand stilled around his rippling cock, and the fingers opened up, releasing his angry flesh to the air. Heero moaned with the loss - his hand reached, uselessly, for Wufei's arms. The other man was moving away - his face smiled in front of him, but it was becoming distant.   
  
Then there were other hands at his ass; soft, wet, slipping through the cleft, to caress the pucker. A slim, damp fingertip, pressing eagerly into him - rolling around; stretching; preparing him. A soft, musical laugh. Of course! groaned Heero, to himself. It was Quatre - he could feel the boy's deft fingers, touching and driving him beyond bearance. He knew no-one else whose fingers would feel so slim, so mischievous... every touch was confident, and insistent, and damned inflaming. The blond boy's hands were cooler on his back; the slender limbs brushed against his, pushing him gently back against the wall. Quatre's torso now slid up against his own; his rich little lips reached up to kiss Heero's chin, his neck. Heero felt Quatre's erection, hot on his thigh; it rubbed against his own, with its own sharp little shocks.   
  
"Want you, Heero Yuy..." whispered Quatre. "Want to _feel_ you!"   
  
He now turned in front of the dark-haired man, twisting, and exposing his back to Heero. He was panting, quietly. He wriggled, deliciously, up and down against Heero's groin, and Heero felt the soft, warm buttocks up against his skin. He groaned. His cock sprang up even further, beating at the boy's flesh - seeking a home there. He was shocked at his lustful response - and something made him look over towards Duo and Trowa.   
  
They still knelt together on the blanket - one of Duo's hands was around Trowa's waist, and the other was buried deep between the valley of Trowa's buttocks. From the movement of his wrist, Heero could see that he was fingering the chestnut-haired man. Trowa's breath was rasping out as he clung to Duo, trying to keep his balance. His lips dipped to Duo's time and again; then his head rolled back, his mouth opening with a soundless cry of joy and exhortation. His hands were tight on Duo's hips - he was trying to rub their cocks together; trying to bring relief to them both. From the tension across his shoulders, Heero could tell that he was close to climax.   
  
Duo's eyes were wild and wide - but they were still fixed on Heero. It was as if only his body registered the mutual fondling with Trowa.   
  
Heero couldn't have said with any certainty how close Duo was to climax. The man's body shone in the night air; the muscles flexed as he played with Trowa. His mouth was willing enough every time that Trowa nipped at him, begging for him. But his emotion remained a dark, deep ocean bed in his eyes. His control did not seem to falter.   
  
_Heero... it's fun for me... enjoy it_...   
  
Quatre's voice was whispering against Heero's legs - Heero hadn't seen him sink to his knees in front of him.   
  
"Want you, Heero," he repeated, a little petulantly. "Want to _taste_ you!" The last words were a little muffled; Quatre had gripped at the skin of his thighs, and had gone down on his cock.   
  
Heero gasped with pleasure, and the anticipation of relief. The pain in his head gave a nudge, but he ignored it.   
  
He looked down at the blond head below, and leaned hard against the wall. His legs were shaking. His body was tugged gently and rhythmically, as Quatre enthusiastically sucked him. He'd told Trowa when they arrived that he'd thought the motel would be a 'heaven' for them. He'd been joking, of course - trying to lighten their frustrated mood .   
  
He wondered perhaps if it mightn't be just the opposite.   
  
Then Quatre's lips tightened, and his tongue licked at the taut thread of skin below the head of his cock, and Heero's climax overwhelmed him. He felt his seed spurting out, escaping, gushing into the eager, waiting mouth. He shouted; he cried out some unintelligible sound. He gripped at Quatre's hair, not caring how he might hurt the boy, and he thrust his hips against his face, asking to be milked, to be sucked to completion; demanding more, and _more_!   
  
The pain in his head became a deep sigh...   
  
*   
  
Heero had sunk to the ground, his legs collapsing beneath him. He panted - his cock ached beyond belief. He thought he might have gabbled some apology to Quatre - afraid he may have ripped out his hair, or bruised his chin, or just generally made a fool of himself with coming so fast and so _desperately_ \-   
  
"Never apologise, never explain..." sighed the light voice at his ear. Quatre knelt beside him, and his sweat-slicked torso shook with gentle laughter. "You are gorgeous, Heero Yuy..." His mouth reached to suck on Heero's lips, with a hungry, grateful, appreciative favour. Heero could taste his own cum inside it - it was warm and musky. He'd never had such an experience in his life - he wondered why the hell he'd not begged for it long before.   
  
Quatre sighed. "You do taste sweet, just like Maxwell describes you. Your cum deserves to be savoured...and it was good to taste it yourself, wasn't it? _All_ of you deserves to be savoured, Heero. I've known that since you arrived. You're a delicious treat! I wish... " He bit his words back and sighed, again; ruefully. "No, that's not for me, is it? But plenty of other things _are_. And there's plenty of time for us to enjoy them all..."   
  
He rose to his feet easily, limbs young and lithe, and he stood above Heero, toying with his own, half-erect cock. As naked as the day he was born, but considerably more mature. Gazing down at the exhausted young man at his feet, and grinning. The breath of a tempting idea teased at his wide, blue eyes - he had many imaginative plans for Heero Yuy, now his appetite had been so deliciously whetted...   
  
But then he felt another man's breath on his shoulder, and abandoned his plans to tease Heero back into action. Not for him - not for now...He swallowed his immediate disappointment, and turned with a half-smile, to take the embrace of the man behind him.   
  
"Duo! Your taste now, I believe -?"   
  
*   
  
Heero was still a little dazed. He felt a strong arm slide around his torso, and he was helped to a sitting position. A blanket was spread underneath him. There was cool water offered to him. It was Duo's hand that held the cup to his mouth - Duo's fingertips that wiped the small excess drops from his lips.   
  
"Heero, do you understand better? The joy? The release?" There was a thread of affection in Duo's voice that he thought might be for him alone.   
  
The cup was back at his mouth, but he waved it away, impatiently. He reached a hand around Duo's neck, and twisted the man's head to him. They kissed, deeply. Heero tasted lemons again - but also other fruits. Other liquids that he couldn't describe or identify. All sweet... all rich...   
  
There was no pain in his head anymore. No nagging; no warning; no interference.   
  
Duo was speaking aloud again. Heero couldn't find any evidence of the sounds in his head. It was all concentrated, now, on the man's face in front of him; the firm, mobile lips; the very human body, laid against his own.   
  
"I want you, Heero."   
  
Hands slid down his sides; around his ass; he was laid back on to the blanket. The fabric was another sensation on his naked back - another sensual experience. Duo's body came down on top of him, their limbs entwined; still the kissing, still the caressing. They were touching all the way from their heavy mouths, to shoulders, to hips, to thighs. It was a fabulous body, thought Heero, in the midst of a fog of frenzy and desire. Fabulous - all of it. And it would be his...   
  
"Let me take you, Heero. You have no idea what pleasure I will give you..."   
  
Duo knelt up before him, now, and Heero stared up into his deep, expressive eyes. There may have been some nervousness there - but Heero suspected it was a reflection from his own. Duo's hands pressed firmly at his inner thighs, but Heero let his legs fall apart easily. He bent them at the knees; he felt the grip of Duo's hands, as he took hold of them, and forced them further up against his chest. He was exposed to his view. Completely defenceless. His exhausted cock twitched gently with returning interest.   
  
"Ask me, Heero..." Duo's voice was very hoarse - he had never sounded like that before. Like Heero thought his own voice sounded. They were alike, Heero thought, in this moment. They were the same - they were coming together as equals -   
  
Heero wondered if Duo was going to say please. He didn't want to wait to find out.   
  
"Take me, Duo."   
  
He felt the rustle of other skin, and the breath of a laugh. It was Quatre beside him again, but he didn't care who was there now. He had eyes only for Duo; eyes only for his dark gaze and his delight, and his eagerness. Ears only for his moans, and his murmurs of pleasure, as he stroked at Heero's dark pink hole, and slipped a long, slim finger inside. Nerves only for Duo's fingers pinching at his flesh - the fire in his veins - the sensitivity all over him, that felt as if he had been flayed alive, and the skin only just laid back down.   
  
Quatre was kneeling beside him, stroking his taut stomach, holding his legs back in place. Then his blond head bent back down to his cock, which was throbbing softly with the excitement. He licked the tip so that it bounced up a little; he started to suck at the sides, softly. Heero sighed with the pleasant feeling - but still his eyes held Duo's. They spoke without words.   
  
"Do you want him to make you come again, Heero?" hissed Duo.   
  
"No!" cried Heero.   
  
Quatre let the slowly swelling cock slide out from his mouth, a thread of pre-cum silver on his lips. His eyes were puzzled. He looked from Heero to Duo. Awaiting instructions.   
  
Heero knew he couldn't explain properly. He thought that he probably didn't need to. "Not you, Quatre - I -"   
  
_Say it, Heero_...   
  
"Duo... just - _you_..." he hissed. He didn't recognise his own voice - it was a throb of passion; a skewer of need. He stared almost angrily at Duo. "I want _you_ to make me come!"   
  
Duo gave his own soft laugh - it could never be mistaken for anyone else's. It danced with amazement and joy. It was embroidered with a rich tapestry of desire and triumph and need. They were the only two people alive, to each other.   
  
"My very sweet one - I have been waiting for this. I never thought you would come!"   
  
"The others - " sighed Heero. He was opening for Duo - he could feel his muscles flexing; asking for him. Impatient for him.   
  
Duo dismissed any other speech. He had two fingers in Heero now - they were wet, and hot, and they pressed excitedly against his prostate, in a way so different from Trowa's touch, or Quatre's, that Heero felt as if he was being roused for the first time. He saw colours - he heard moans of welcome all around him. He groaned aloud.   
  
Duo's voice was jagged, like a serrated knife. "Yes, there are others. There is the strong one, and the bright one - and now the dark one. But no-one is sweet like you, Heero Yuy."   
  
"Duo..." came a soft sound from behind them. Maybe a protest...   
  
But Duo didn't acknowledge it. "You are the best, Heero. You are sweet, as mine is meant to be. You touch me like nothing else. You are _mine_..."   
  
Duo gasped, and leant forward, hard against Heero's vulnerable flesh. He came fiercely into Heero - his cock burst through the initial resistance, then met complete acceptance. Heero's ass relaxed around him, and drew him in. It caressed him; it beat at him; it succoured and swallowed him. They clung together, full of astonished delight. Duo began to thrust, and Heero's body moved with him. Duo took his weight on his arms at first, but his body sagged gradually until it was crushing Heero's stomach and groin; Heero grasped him, and held him tight. He felt Duo's stomach muscles caressing his cock, trapped between their bodies. He knew he was going to come very soon, despite having been so wiped out by Quatre's attentions.   
  
_It was just foreplay, Heero...fun for me_...   
  
The two men fucked, and they groaned; they reached clumsily for each other's mouths, and kissed whatever they could reach instead. Heero felt the sweating of Duo's body; the hammering of his heart. He felt the burst of Duo's coming before it even arrived at his ass - it was loud and fierce in Duo's blood, and Heero heard its demanding cry, even before the sound was wrenched from Duo's mouth.   
  
He let his own satisfaction wash over him, then, spreading its sticky emission on their heaving, shaking bodies. Sharing it with Duo, and Duo's ecstasy.   
  
They felt the pressure in each other's temples; saw the vivid colours behind each other's eyes; absorbed the throbbing anguish in each other's cocks, even as their climaxes had raced to outrun each other.   
  
Heero saw the restraint shatter in Duo's eyes; the control crumble. Overwhelming, ecstatic emotion flooded his head and his heart and his limbs, as if Duo flowed into his very veins.   
  
They shuddered together; they shouted together.   
  
And, once again, there was no other sound in the courtyard except for them   
  
*   
  
Heero woke in the small hours of the morning; there was no light except for a pale moon, and silence all around. There was the slightest whistle from a breeze across the motel site. In the first seconds of stirring, he didn't recognise anything of this. He was only aware of a sluggish consciousness, and confusion as to where he was. His body ached; his head throbbed. His mouth had that hideous parched, next-morning feeling, as if he had spent all night drinking   
  
Which he knew he hadn't.   
  
No - he'd spent the night bathing, and smiling, and eating sweet stuff, and being fucked into glorious senselessness by a man called Duo Maxwell. Playing games with water drops, and ice cubes, and soft fruit... rolling on to his front - on to his back... opening his arms, and then spreading his legs...and crying the man's name - and sobbing at the intensity of feeling. Time and again.   
  
He groaned. He sighed. There was the slight nag of cramp in his left leg, lying underneath his body. It was a sign that he'd slept heavily. He was gradually aware of the creased coverlet under his body, and the glint from the cracked tiles on the ceiling - he was back in room number 6, it seemed.   
  
He couldn't remember how he'd got back to his room. At what time. In what state. He could smell the soft, musky smell of his lover beside him on the sheets underneath him - his lover, Trowa, that was. He was groggy - still half asleep - but he knew that he was surprised to think that he was still sleeping with Trowa, in their strange little motel room. Did that matter any more? Why did he think it didn't?   
  
He couldn't seem to focus any thought properly. Too much sun... he thought, still in a half-dream. Too much pleasure... too many touches... too much Duo...   
  
The sound of the half-hearted fan whirred across his consciousness.   
  
Hadn't he thought all these things before?   
  
Then he wondered what had woken him. He stretched on the bed, and yawned. He knew at once that Trowa wasn't on the bed beside him. The close air stroked warm fingers over his bare stomach - there was no cover over him, and he was completely naked.   
  
Peering through sleepy eyes, he saw Trowa standing at the door, his shorts pulled on loosely, a vest in his hands.   
  
"Trow?" he called, sleepily. "Where are you going?"   
  
"To - him. To Wufei." Trowa's voice was barely a whisper.   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"I - must go to him," said Trowa, hurriedly. There was a strange mix in his voice; apology - sorrow - eagerness. "He needs me. They need me - they're calling me. And I'll be sleeping with them from now on. Heero - you must understand..."   
  
Heero struggled to sit up, but there was a deep lassitude in all his limbs. There was the brand of Duo's fingertips on the skin of his hips; the smell of the man still in his nostrils. He wondered how he could ever have heard or seen Trowa's movements through such obsession.   
  
"Yeah... OK... I mean," he stumbled over the words. "I mean - I don't exactly know what's going on, Trow... I didn't expect you here, to be honest... what with you and Wufei, 'n all..."   
  
Trowa stared at him in silence, for a moment. Then he came back into the room, and sat down on the side of the bed. His eyes shone in the darkness.   
  
"I know. It's amazing, isn't it? Everything that's happened...Look..." he wriggled, a little uncomfortably. His eyes were still fixed on Heero - the sleepy, dark-haired man was suddenly very aware of his nakedness; and Trowa's slim, smooth torso, just a hand's touch away. "I still want you, Heero. You're fabulous, y'know? _Christ_ , and I don't forget that you were everything to me! Before we came here... I mean, we escaped together, right?"   
  
"Right," murmured Heero. He wondered if Trowa realised he was speaking in the past tense.   
  
"But I don't want to go back, Heero -"   
  
"What?" spluttered Heero. "We never said we'd go _back_! But we were gonna go on to the city - find a new place - jobs - whatever -"   
  
But he knew that Trowa's attention wasn't fully on him. "I can't believe this place, Heero. It's like nowhere else I've ever seen. And the guys want me with them; they want me to help out, and care for the place. And care for _them_..."   
  
Heero stared, a little stupidly. "You wanna stay here, Trow? Like - indefinitely? What about your plans? _Our_ plans?"   
  
Trowa shook his head slowly, the swing of his hair a whisper in the muggy room. "I don't think I was as prepared as I thought, Heero. I never really thought beyond getting out of that damned town. I - couldn't tell you that before - you thought I had the grand plan. You'd have been so disappointed - you looked up to me in that..."   
  
Heero stared at him. He wasn't gonna argue. Though he understood a hell of a lot more now than he ever had before, and he knew that there'd been far more disappointment in their relationship than either of them had realised. He also knew that it wasn't their fault.   
  
Trowa was continuing. The tone in his voice was light - it bubbled with excitement. "But I'm happy here - I can be _very_ happy here! I can't believe the pleasure, and the contentment...I can feel things I never felt before - listen to thoughts in my head, that were always silent before -"   
  
Heero was startled. "Mine?"   
  
"No, not yours, Heero," he sighed. "Theirs. Wufei - Quatre... when I'm with them... when we're..." his voice trailed off.   
  
Heero flopped back on to the bed with a puff of resignation. It was too damned late in the night to be having this conversation, right? "Ok, I think I understand. Guess I never thought it'd be long-term, y'know? You 'n me..." He made sure that Trowa didn't see his face. "What'll you do here, Trow?"   
  
Trowa shrugged. His mind was already made up, and he didn't care about details. "Help Wufei in the kitchen - help Quatre round the motel -"   
  
"And fuck -" said Heero, a little slyly. He felt Trowa's body tense. He saw Trowa's face smile in the darkness.   
  
"Yeah. And fuck. He's magnificent isn't he? Wufei... Both of 'em, really...I never thought it'd be like that." He sounded almost awed.   
  
Heero didn't answer. He'd never thought it'd be like that, either. He wasn't sure how he was coping with it, himself.   
  
Trowa stood up, ready to go again. He gazed down at Heero. "But you'll be with me here, won't you, Heero? They want you, too - they want to share it all. And there's Duo, now...isn't there?" There was no answer from the body on the bed. "Heero?"   
  
He waited a few more seconds, but perhaps Heero had gone back to sleep. The voices were clamouring for him, now. They'd waited long enough - they needed his attention. They wanted to show him theirs, in return. Trowa sighed, and quietly, he left the room.   
  
*   
  
When Heero next woke, it was noon. He knew this, because the sun was well established, burning brightly and fiercely in the sky, and searing its rays through the curtainless window on to his body.   
  
He didn't see why he should get up. He still felt disorientated, and he thought he remembered a rather tense conversation with Trowa in the middle of the night. Had it all been a dream?   
  
He rolled himself up on the bed, and his muscles protested. No it hadn't been a dream! He was stretched out here, sore from a night of amazing fucking, and on his own because his lover had just left him, to go and co-habit with a coupla other guys. It looked like another day of blinding, constant heat - and he was sure that he'd not had enough food and water over the last few days, to have built up any stamina. He'd seen no-one else for over a week, had no transport or communication with the outside world, and he was effectively stranded in some second rate motel, where amazingly weird things kept happening.   
  
_Heero_...   
  
And always a damn erection! He growled down at his lap - it was nagging at him, like the worst kind of morning wood. He needed a shower - to get dressed.   
  
The memories were flooding back, seeping into him - and he reckoned he knew who to blame for that. He seemed to be temporarily paralysed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head hanging down. He thought of Trowa, sitting in that pool. Holding Wufei's face - Quatre's slim hips.   
  
He found himself stroking his cock; gently. Like he treasured its comfort. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was something in the food here, keeping him constantly in a state of heightened arousal. But it did feel damn _good_...   
  
He remembered Trowa with Quatre, taking him. The boy's gasp of pleasure - the way that his hands gripped at Wufei, as the taller man held him still for Trowa's use.   
  
He tugged at his cock - a little more insistently, now.   
  
Then there was Trowa with Wufei, being taken. An astonishingly erotic sight; the sight of complete surrender and yet - a totally consensual joy...   
  
He was pumping steadily now. He knew the perfect rhythm for his own enjoyment - he knew how soon he would come, bucking and shuddering, and spraying cum all over his warm, smooth stomach...   
  
Trowa's bright eyes - Wufei's dark, knowing ones. The excitement that vibrated through Quatre at all times. Lips licking an ice cube into Duo's eager mouth. Quatre's soft mouth, opening to drink him down. Like nothing he'd ever had before! The first kiss from Duo's thick lips - the first touch of his cock...   
  
He moaned aloud.   
  
_And Duo_... came the echo of Trowa's soft voice. _There's Duo, now_...   
  
Ahh, yes... Duo Maxwell. He could remember _him_ as if he were standing here beside him. As if he touched him with those burning fingers; kissed his skin with the firm, damp lips. As if his body still slammed into him, bony hips up tight against his groin. Eyes on fire; hearts beating louder than their cries. Sometimes there had been sharp, demanding thrusts - and other times, a slower, seducing penetration. And always the hint of something around his heart - something that teased, and begged, and was somehow more vulnerable than it wanted to be.   
  
Duo's presence. Heero knew that he'd felt it. He'd _shared_ it.   
  
With a shout, Heero climaxed, spewing seed from within his fisted palm. His back was arched, and his heels pressed hard into the thin mattress. He felt the completion hard and deep within his groin - his heart hammered, his mouth was drier than ever. His hips shook, and his legs collapsed under him.   
  
He felt a physical relief - but there was a deeper, disturbing ache that wasn't assuaged. A face in his mind; a voice whispering in his head.   
  
The masturbation had been nothing like the memories. No comparison at all.   
  
Heero felt like weeping. Or shouting in anger. Or hitting someone... What the hell was going on?   
  
And what the hell was going to happen to him now?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero opened the door of room 6, and Duo Maxwell was there.   
  
Of course.   
  
Heero stood for a second, absorbing the man's being, and the way he looked. The way he smelt. The way he smiled. As if he'd been there all morning, just waiting for Heero to get up off his lazy ass, and come outside.   
  
Heero felt giddy. The air suddenly seemed electric; the sun brighter than before. The aroma of citrus teased at him, as ever. Though, perhaps, not as poignantly.   
  
Duo looked fantastic! His eyes were bright, and alert. There was no sign of any mistiness - any mysterious ghostliness. Duo Maxwell was a tall, well-built young man, who held himself with confidence, and who bent his muscled body forward to lean on the doorframe, supported by his braced arm. The inside of his wrist was inches from Heero's face; Heero thought that he could feel his pulse from there.   
  
Oh - and had Heero registered how damned attractive he was?   
  
Duo wore pants today, in a thin, silk fabric. An equally fragile, white cotton shirt, which was buttoned down only from the middle of his chest. Long sleeves, which had been rolled casually up to his elbows. His skin was smooth, and slightly tanned. The sun was as hot as ever above them, and Heero stared at the thin film of sweat in the hollows of that slender throat. He realised he'd never seen Duo in daylight before. Christ, he'd only met him in reality the night before! And look how that had ended...   
  
Heero felt ridiculously shy. He looked quickly down at his crumpled shorts and the last clean tee shirt he'd had left in his bag. He hadn't bothered to comb his hair - just ran his fingers through it, on his way out to find some food. Guess Duo would think he looked a complete mess!   
  
"Tell me you don't!" he smiled, flushing a little coyly.   
  
"Don't what, Heero?" asked Duo. His eyes were ranging up and down his body. Heero felt goose pimples follow in their tracks.   
  
"I - didn't you hear - think my thoughts - ?" Heero's voice trailed off - he felt a fool.   
  
Duo's eyes flashed slightly - Heero thought he may have mistaken the shiver of his eyelids. When he raised his face back to Heero's, his gaze was as assertive as ever.   
  
"Walk with me, Heero. I want to be with you. I want you with me."   
  
"Walk -? Yeah, sure." He shook himself out of his dreamlike state. He needed to get going, or the whole day would be wasted - he needed to eat, and he needed to bring some normal functions back into his life. Besides, had he thought Duo would want to push him straight back into the room, and fuck him where he stood? Had he wanted that _himself_? He sighed.   
  
Duo stood to one side, levering himself back off the wall, and fell into step beside him. Heero started to amble up the walkway, waiting for Duo to suggest direction - but he knew where they would go; the courtyard. The only place to sit and be peaceful. The place that he'd always felt the strongest connection to. He thought now that it had been Duo Maxwell he'd always felt there - his presence; his influence.   
  
His power.   
  
He snatched a look up at the man beside him. Duo was looking ahead, but there was a slight smile on his face. His lips were moist, like he'd licked them a couple of times. His fingers brushed occasionally against Heero's.   
  
Heero felt ludicrously excited. His skin tingled like he was being stroked. He felt breathless.   
  
He didn't believe he'd ever felt this way about anyone before. And he knew he'd never felt like this about Trowa.   
  
*   
  
They sat on one of the benches, together. Heero had pulled on his sneakers without socks, when he got up - he toed them off now, and ran his bare feet across the bright, pale stones. Shadows from the palm trees dappled his calves and knees. Duo had stretched his own legs out in front of him, and his feet were also bare. Heero couldn't remember noticing if he'd had boots or shoes on when he came to call. His foot reached, almost playfully, for Duo's. He wanted to press his toes on the other's long, slim foot; he wanted to run his foot gently up under the loose hem of Duo's pants, and touch at his nakedness again. It felt so close as to be tangible; and yet was so modestly hidden from him. Duo allowed the pressure of their feet together; he sighed, then leant back against the wall, and stretched his arms above his head.   
  
Then he turned lazily, and caught Heero's eyes on him. His smile was wide and joyful.   
  
"You were fantastic last night, Heero. I wanted you to stay with me - to sleep with me, all night. Every night..."   
  
Heero jerked his foot away, and his brow furrowed. "But I didn't -?"   
  
Duo laughed, softly. "You wanted to go back with Trowa. To discuss things. Though I think that neither of you were in a mood to _discuss_ anything!"   
  
Heero frowned. "Sorry -?"   
  
"No," said Duo. He put his warm hand on Heero's arm. "Whatever you want, you can have. It was acceptable to me. I will have plenty of time with you, myself. And now Trowa is with the others, yes? So - you can join me, properly."   
  
Heero felt a strange tug at his emotions. There was a frisson of delight, at Duo's touch. But there was also the slightest stab of fear - at something he didn't fully understand.   
  
"I - we've only just met, Duo. You hardly know me -"   
  
The hand was tight on his chin, though he had no intention of resisting it. Duo turned his face around, and firm lips came down fiercely on his half-open mouth. Heero moaned, and his tongue forced eagerly against Duo's. He'd dreamed of this kiss - this taste! He'd been _hours_ away from it, surely -? How did he bear with life, without it? His tee shirt was wet with sweat almost immediately - his cock pressed impatiently at the lap of his shorts. He put willing arms around Duo's torso, and he deepened into the kiss.   
  
" _Jesus_ , Duo..."   
  
"Hush, hush," whispered the voice that spoke and probed into his mouth. Duo's hands were up under his tee shirt, and he felt himself pressed back on to the bench - his feet lifting up off the ground. "Of course I know you! I've been in your head. I know how you felt when you arrived - why you wanted to escape. What you thought of your lover - and of Quatre and Wufei. I know what you dream of, Heero. What you lust for."   
  
"Not sure -" Heero was gasping around the furious kisses, arching ecstatically against the pinching of his nipples. He tried to turn his head to clear his mouth, but the angle of the sun shone into his eyes, and he had to twist back. Duo's mouth claimed him, again.   
  
"Not - sure I want you to know all about me -" he half-joked. He felt a ripple of tension in Duo's body. "How can you see all that, about me? Are you some kind of medium?"   
  
Duo laughed, and he didn't answer directly. "I saw you through their eyes, Heero. Through their hands - through their bodies. You and Trowa - you were both ready for this place, you see. Ready for _us_. But _you_ \- you are much more than just a refugee. You carry strength within you that alerted me to you. It's a strength that I admire. Sometimes - well, sometimes I can't even see it all..."   
  
"This is a trick -"   
  
And now Duo was angry - Heero felt the sudden tightening of his body - the impatient breath from his mouth. "No, no trick, and you know that, don't you? Because you have the same feelings that I do. Because you've felt it too! Don't be a fool, now, Heero! It's just something about this place that develops in us - that gives us a heightened awareness of our _guests_..."   
  
"You have no other guests!" Heero protested.   
  
"There have been many, Heero!" snapped Duo. "Do you think the three of us arrived together, one dusty day? No - we arrived separately. As others have. We are able to guide people here, who will benefit from our attentions. Who are looking for someone - as we ourselves are."   
  
He had ceased his fondling of Heero's body. Heero still lay flat on his back, on the bench, with Duo's hand up under his shirt. But Duo's upper body had pulled away from him. The dark blue eyes fired distress and anger at him. The pupils were beyond depth - the irises were a well of sapphire.   
  
"Looking for someone -?" muttered Heero. He could feel his skin cooling a little, where Duo's body had been lying over him. "I'm not -"   
  
"Of course you are! You've been looking for someone for many years! Your passion - you need someone to share it with you -"   
  
Heero was aware just how impassioned Duo was becoming. His hand shook slightly, where it lay on Heero's chest. Heero felt that he was being cruel, at pressing Duo further. But there were still so many unexplained things...   
  
He pulled himself upright, with a sigh. "I had Trowa -" He could hear his voice, and he didn't sound as bereft as he thought he probably should. He found it difficult, when he felt the thrill of Duo Maxwell's palm against his erect nipple.   
  
"You did. But he was never going to be enough, was he? Not when you found your need growing. And it has been, hasn't it, Heero Yuy? You can feel it inside you - the restlessness. The desire. The agony of not being able to be _yourself_!"   
  
Heero stared at him. He didn't know whether to be angry at his arrogance, or admire the truth of everything he spoke. "Trowa was my escape, Duo. I made that choice; to leave with him. To leave it all."   
  
Duo flinched, as if he were disturbed by the words. "But that's not how he is now, Heero. He has decided that he belongs here. That he wants to stay _here_."   
  
Damn you! thought Heero. "You could let him leave -!"   
  
Duo looked puzzled; a little wary. "It's not a question of letting him leave, Heero. It's his own decision. It has to be that way - no-one can force anyone else here. But if we can offer what he wants..."   
  
"And that's his _true one_?" sneered Heero. "Wufei? Or all of you? Looks like he's spoiled for choice, eh? Guess you all get to stick your cocks up his ass -"   
  
"Maybe," said Duo calmly. He was unfazed by Heero's crudeness - his sudden aggression. "It may be just one that he wants. Or more than one - a group, to belong to. Whatever he wants, it's his choice - his interpretation of the thing we all seek for. The thing that will release us from whatever burdens we have."   
  
He reached again for Heero's face, but Heero wrenched his head away. The damn sun poked its angry fingers into his eyes, and they watered suddenly.   
  
"Release... burdens...you talk like you're a prisoner here, Duo."   
  
Duo was stroking him again - his palm was wet with sweat, and his fingertips brushed against Heero's nipple. The tip was painfully erect - the touch was agony, at the same time as joy. Heero felt his whole body melting in the sun - melting under Duo, so that they would become a single body. It was like a Dali picture that he once saw on a discarded magazine cover. It reminded him that he'd wanted to visit an art gallery, one day - he'd also wanted to spend time in a library. He'd wanted some money of his own, and a room where he could leave his stuff without it being broken up or hocked for booze. He'd wanted his own company, and friends of his choosing, and to wake up of a morning without the sick feeling of depression, and the wince of a bruise...   
  
"Heero - stay with me," moaned Duo. He was licking at his neck; his hands slid inside Heero's shorts and caressed at the swelling flesh there. "A prisoner... I can see you might see it that way. But it's by my own device, Heero. My own choice. It's a place of sanctuary, here..."   
  
This time, when he reached for Heero's face, Heero let himself be touched. He opened his mouth for Duo's tongue; his arms leant up and grasped Duo's shoulders. He pulled him down, almost harshly. Duo gasped into his mouth; his teeth grazed Heero's lip, drawing the smallest drop of blood.   
  
Yeah, Heero thought wildly - it had been just days - it had been just _hours_ since he'd been with Duo! And maybe he believed this stuff about Duo knowing him from the inside of his mind, and maybe he didn't - but that was all academic, when he was with the guy, and his heart raced, and his mouth went dry, and he wanted to be every minute with him -!   
  
"Kiss me, Duo!" groaned Heero. "Kiss me - fuck me!"   
  
Their tongues warred for minutes more - Heero's hands were gripped tight on Duo's arms, and he arched under him in frustration. He wanted the man - now! Here, on the hard, stone bench - now, on the dust-red ground - he didn't care where! He wanted to spread his legs, and open his arms, and let Duo have whatever he wanted. Because it would be what he wanted, too.   
  
"Not - now," smiled Duo, though Heero could hear his heart racing in his chest. "You need food - we'll fetch some, and you can come back to my room. I want you there. You can be with me there."   
  
"Room?" stuttered Heero, his body so painfully aroused that he thought he might combust with the slightest spark of sunlight on the appropriate trigger. "What room? Where do _you_ sleep, Duo?" God, he thought - but he'd never considered it! Did he think the man slept in the kitchen? In some cloud, like a celestial being, somewhere -?   
  
Duo was laughing. His eyes were bright with fever, but he was in control of himself now. "You know that's ridiculous, Heero! I don't sleep much, but I have my own place that I return to when I wish. I have room number 4..."   
  
*   
  
There were empty, crumbed plates on the floor - a knob of butter smeared on a discarded towel. An apple core lay, browning, on one of the plates. A jug of water was on the dresser, half-empty, with two glasses beside it, their edges smeared with lip-prints and the lap of laughing tongues.   
  
Heero knew that he had never felt better than he did now. _Too much sex_... he grinned to himself. Wasn't that what he'd said before? But it was more than that. There was something that had been brought out in him - something that warmed and thrilled him, every waking moment. His life was awakening, somehow...   
  
He lay, naked, on Duo's bed. The same bed he'd slept in before, when he was hiding from Trowa. Yes - that's what he'd been doing - _hiding_. But not any more!   
  
They'd half-run, half-staggered away from the courtyard and back to Room 4 - Duo had pulled him playfully inside, pressing the door closed with his bare foot, even as he slipped the buttons of his shirt; even as he advanced on Heero, his tongue seeking enthusiastic response. Duo had peeled the clothes off both of them; surely, slowly, and very greedily. Heero's sleepy sight saw that they lay scattered around the room - there was a shirt hanging half off the dresser. His shorts lay in a heap, left just the way they'd slipped down his legs. Just before Duo had grasped his waist, laughing, and spun him out of the cloth that clung to his ankles, and down on to the bed. Underneath him.   
  
Yes, he sighed to himself. Duo had stripped him, and caressed him, and licked his way all over his body, until he'd almost wept for him. Begged him for more; begged to be able to touch him in the same way!   
  
Duo had then pushed Heero off the bed, and on to his knees; he'd clasped his head to his naked groin, and Heero had gone down on him with a hunger that he never knew he possessed. He'd heard Duo's yelps of pleasure - his groan of anguish, as his cock swelled in Heero's mouth, and his thighs strained with the anticipation of climax under Heero's firm hands. He'd felt the throb of delight throughout Duo's limbs; felt the veins of Duo's cock leap and explode in his mouth, and the river of coming flood across his tongue. It had been sweet, and sour, and more tasty than any food he could think of.   
  
He had swallowed every glorious, sticky globule, until Duo's cock was dry of it again, and he could feel him wince with the sensitivity of Heero's harsh tongue on his sore flesh. And still Heero ached for more.   
  
" _Heero_..." Duo had moaned. "You are magnificent! Show me what else you can do. What else you want to do to me! You cannot disappoint me - you cannot shock me -!"   
  
So Heero had licked the smooth patches of Duo's balls, trailing warm saliva and explicit, sexy words across the thin, sensitive skin between them and his ass. He had sucked at the sweat, and pressed his mark to Duo's inner thighs. He'd been impatient, but also soothing and seductive, until Duo's body had relaxed, and some life had returned to his cock - some arousal, that could be tempted to more, by Heero's teasing, wet mouth. Then he'd allowed Duo to roll him over on to his back, spread his legs, and enter him.   
  
It had been as amazing as the first time. And the second - and the others. He could still feel the memory of every thumb print on his flesh; the warm slap of Duo's balls against his ass. The trickles of sweat down his heaving chest - the slick, crusty remnants of Duo's cum on his legs.   
  
He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The mirror tiles were in better condition in Room 4, than they had been in 6. His own, bright blue eyes stared back at him through the blades of the fan. He saw his arms slung carelessly behind his head; his legs fallen wide apart as he lay there. The dark bush at his groin - the crease of the sheet beside him, where Duo had fallen off his body after climaxing, and lain curled up, still panting.   
  
Heero wondered what time it was. Damn motel - he had little idea of time or place here! He realised that was because it was of so little importance. Why should it be, when he could lie and touch Duo Maxwell? When he could kiss, and suck, and fuck without restraint -?   
  
The door of the bathroom creaked open, and Duo entered with hands full. Heero saw he'd not bothered to put on any clothes. He also recognised how that seemed to be Duo's natural state - it was when he was clothed that he produced surprise, and interest. In one hand, he held a bottle of sparkling wine, or perhaps champagne, though Heero had never seen any supplies in the motel kitchen or dining room. It was pale through the green glass of the bottle, and already open - it's bubbles were softly hissing. Heero had never had champagne before. Perhaps that was another experience that he'd always wanted to have. In his other hand, Duo held clean glasses, and a box of something that looked like soft fruit. _Raspberries_ ...the recognition glimmered in Heero's mind. Soft, plump seeds - bursting taste. His taste buds watered; his cock stirred, ready for more play.   
  
"Hey -" called Heero, softly. "Is that where you keep your wine cellar?"   
  
Duo smiled. "There's ice in the basin - it kept it cold. But we must drink quickly, before it warms up."   
  
Heero watched him pour out two glassfuls. He wondered what decadence this was, drinking champagne in the middle of the afternoon! For surely it must still be day? There was the sun, slicing through the room, even though he had drawn the thin curtains. And the afternoon heat, pounding through the walls, making the sheets and their bodies slide against each other.   
  
He heard the soft plop, as Duo dropped a handful of raspberries into their glasses. The liquid turned a soft, blush-pink. A sweetness, added to the sharp dryness of the alcohol.   
  
Duo didn't clink the glasses together. But he raised his, as if in a toast. "To us, Heero! To what we all want... to our true selves - to each of us, our true one!"   
  
"Yeah," sighed Heero, a little unused to such sentiment. But he imagined that Duo was never embarrassed; Duo would speak his mind, and others would - of course - listen. Heero sipped the drink - it was gorgeous. It was rich, and rare to him. He rather thought he could cultivate a taste for it! He laughed at himself, privately. It would be some years, perhaps, before he'd be earning enough to be treating himself to _that_!   
  
"Duo -" he asked. "Were you the first, here? How did you come here? Why? I - " he saw Duo shifting, a little uncomfortably, on the bed beside him. "Please tell me about yourself."   
  
Duo was silent. He sipped; he looked down at his glass. Thoughtfully, he dipped in a hand, and rolled one of the fruits out between his fingers. It was dripping with the liquid; the reddened drops looked like blood on his skin. His voice was very soft. "You don't need to know that, Heero."   
  
His other hand reached out, and pushed Heero gently back, up against a pile of pillows that they'd been using. Heero was half upright - his hand still grasped his own glass. He opened his mouth to speak again, and then Duo was pressing the fruit against his stomach - low down, catching against his navel. Heero sucked in his breath at the sensation - the raspberry was damp, and left soft, wet, dark red stains on the thin trail of dark hairs that snaked its way down to his groin.   
  
"But I _want_ to know. You know about me - I don't know enough about you."   
  
Duo's hand didn't press any further. The raspberry stuck to Heero's skin, and started to feel a little messy.   
  
"I can't remember, Heero."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
There was a strange, almost stricken look on Duo's face, though he hid it quickly and well. Perhaps he'd grown used to that manoeuvre in his past. He was obviously drawn to look at Heero - his eyes were hungry for his face; for his body. But he kept twisting his head away, as if in pain. As if there were something in Heero's returning expression that disturbed him.   
  
"I don't remember my past. I don't remember _myself_."   
  
"Your family -"   
  
"I have no-one. Yes, I know _that_ \- I was running from that. There was pain, and a terrible loneliness, and I knew there was no-one left..."   
  
"A - an accident?" murmured Heero. Had Duo been in an accident? Lost his family, or something -? And, perhaps, his memory. "Wasn't there someone to ask -?"   
  
"There's no-one!" Duo's sharp tone brooked no argument. He had accepted his loss, somehow, and wasn't prepared to search any further. "There's no-one out there that knows me - even my name was my own creation. This motel was abandoned - it had been called Maxwell's, so I took the name, for a joke. Then I stayed. I was the only one here at that time, so in that way, I was the first. I got some supplies in - I survived on little enough. Then the others arrived, one by one. We made our own lives here. Our own arrangements..."   
  
"And - is that it?" marvelled Heero. He felt pain from Duo, now - an astonishing thing. He wondered what it would be like to have no memories - no history. No anchor in life - even if, like his, it'd been an anchor that was dragging him down under the water.   
  
"Yes," replied Duo. His voice was calm enough. But Heero felt the words as if he'd spoken aloud. The words of pleading - of warning...   
  
_Don't ask me more. I have no more to offer you there. No-one has asked me for that before_...   
  
"And in the future?" asked Heero.   
  
Duo turned fully to him now. His eyes ran from Heero's moving lips, still a little wet from the champagne, and down to the small puddle of sweet, soft fruit above his twitching cock. The feelings from him now were talking 'desire' - were talking 'demands'. Were talking 'delicious'...   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
Heero lay back a little on the pillows - reached out and put his glass on the chair beside the bed. "You won't stay here forever, surely - you're young - smart -"   
  
"I'm _horny_..." grinned Duo, bending his head to Heero's stomach. His tongue ghosted over the damp skin, seeking to distract Heero. But Heero drew so much more from him now than mere words - under Duo's lust, he felt a shiver of fright; he felt the growl of wariness.   
  
"Yeah, sure, but - you'll want to do something else with your life, won't you? Besides run this place, and fuck passing runaways -"   
  
Too late, he knew his flippancy had either hurt or angered Duo. There was a sharp stabbing in his head, almost like a slap to his face. "Don't -!" he cried out, but more in anger than pain. His hand darted out and grabbed at Duo. "You won't _do_ that, Duo! You won't treat me like that! Things have been tough on you, OK? But no more 'n the rest of us! Don't fuck with my head anymore, or I'm outta here, faster than you can pick your fucking _raspberries_!"   
  
Duo jerked upright, and stared at his wrist - at Heero's hand, so tight around it that the knuckles were whitening. He opened his thick, lush lips, and nothing came out. Heero felt the pressure in his temples ease... he felt the invasion relax and melt away.   
  
"Heero - I'm sorry. I -"   
  
"'S OK," said Heero, gruffly. "Shit, I'd rather have that attention a little lower, y'know? I didn't mean that about - about runaways...but if you wanna go back to the fucking part, I could definitely show some interest again..."   
  
It was a feeble joke, he knew. And Duo's sense of humour seemed different from his, in many ways. He released his grip on Duo's wrist, but the braided man still sat beside him, as if stunned.   
  
"I must stay here, Heero," he said. His voice sounded some way away. "I can't leave. I can never leave. The others need me - I need them. You're the first that has affected me like this..."   
  
"But that's what I mean, y'know?" protested Heero. "What about _you_ ? Don't _you_ need things as well? Things in your life - something more than you get here?"   
  
Duo was shaking his head, slowly. He looked back down at Heero. "When I said I don't remember my past - I feel like I'm between places, Heero. There's confusion, sometimes. But this is the place that gives me peace. This is where I've belonged for a long time. I've always felt that there's some kind of delay, you see...a decision to be made. And I've always assumed I was waiting for the true one to help me with that."   
  
Heero didn't really understand much, except for the nagging ache in his body, and the desire to bring the other man's confident, possessive hands back down on to him. He tugged at Duo, tentatively, and was more than pleased when the lithe body bent back down to his whim. He kissed him, and pressed him gently towards his chest; towards the small trails of fruit juice, now spotting out along his sides. Duo's tongue was warm and familiar, as he began to lap at the raspberry-flavoured skin.   
  
Heero sighed with pleasure. "Trowa and I were on our way to the city, y'know? There's lotsa opportunities there. Plenty of other things to see - to do." What was he trying to say? He wasn't sure. But he suspected - feared? - that his conversation with Duo was far from finished.   
  
Duo's reply was muffled, as he sucked his mark on to Heero's naked hip. "Trowa knows where he wants to be now."   
  
Heero didn't know what made him persist in talking. Duo's lips were already licking at the sodden raspberry, and swirling around the curling hairs of his groin. His chin caught at Heero's rearing cock, and the dark-haired man gasped with the tantalising sensation. His head was swimming. "Duo - _Christ_ \- that's good... but - listen - this _true one_ business - ohhh..." Duo's lips were rounding over the head of his cock, and the anticipation was like needles through his taut skin.   
  
Heero struggled to continue. "I - look, I think I know what you mean - I think I feel the same - about _you_!" He gasped, and laughed, and grasped a handful of Duo's hair, trying to get his attention. Half-seriously; half-nervously. His flesh ached for him _so much_..."Duo - listen to me! Will you come with me, when I go?"   
  
Duo ceased the licking - he ceased the sucking.   
  
"What are you talking about, Heero? You've just seen what it can be like here! I want you with me -"   
  
"Yeah -," gasped Heero, reaching helplessly for him, begging him to continue. "And I want _you_ with _me_. But not always here...surely?"   
  
There was no reply.   
  
*   
  
Then there was a sudden change - Duo pulled away from him, and knelt up beside him on the bed. When Heero lifted himself up on to his elbows, Duo put his hands to his face, and stared deeply into his questioning eyes.   
  
"Take me, Heero. Fuck me! I want you to. I want you inside me. I'm yours."   
  
"What?" Heero thought that the look on his face must be a wondrous thing to behold - a mixture of astonishment, and delight, and _fear_. What would Duo think of him? Some kinda virgin lover, he was..."You mean - me -? But I've never done it before, Duo! Not been seme. I don't - wanna - get it wrong... I mean - hurt you. _Shit_..."   
  
Duo's voice was stronger now - more assertive. It slipped around his neck and mouth, and murmured seductively at his ears. "You want it to be Trowa? Your first? Or Quatre? He's wanted you all along, Heero -"   
  
"Christ, no!" exploded Heero. "I mean - _no_ , I want you to be my first! I just -"   
  
"Good," sighed Duo. He put his hands down on to the bed, so that he was on all fours, and he wriggled his ass, as if to get comfortable. "I'd want to see you with them, Heero - I'd enjoy seeing your sweet body arching and wriggling and fighting with theirs. It would be a joy for me. But whatever you did, at the end of it, I'd want you in my bed, and your body to be mine."   
  
He turned his body so that his ass presented itself over Heero's lap, and he gazed back over a dropped shoulder. "And I want your cock to be the only one that takes me."   
  
"I -"   
  
"You will be my first as well, Heero."   
  
Heero had read those trash paperbacks that used phrases like 'suddenly, time stood still'. But in that minute, he felt that it did. He sat up, paralysed with amazement and desire, and downright shock. "I - don't know what to do, Duo -"   
  
Duo turned again and faced him, reading the indecision in his expression. With the slightest of sighs, and a warm smile, he slid down on to the bed beside him. Slowly, he began to unbraid his hair - he loosened the plait until the heavy strands hung over his shoulders, and the curling ends teased at Heero's chest. Heero stared, fascinated. He wanted to run his fingers through it - he wanted to lie in it - to _bathe_ in it. "Hush..." smiled Duo. "Lie back again... let me prepare things for us..."   
  
Duo's lips were at his, kissing him; Duo's hair was brushed back over his shoulders, but still tickled at his neck and warmed his ears. Duo's hand was on his cock, stroking it gently, bringing it to a fiercer, thicker agony. Duo's foot nudged a small bottle that was lying on the bottom of the coverlet, and rolled it up into their reach. The tang of citrus was in the air again, but this time Heero knew it was the smell of the lubricating gel. Then Duo had the bottle open, and was covering his fingers and palms.   
  
"Hush," was all he said, as he stroked Heero's cock again. Except this time, his hands were cool from the gel, and impossibly smooth, and his fingers slid quickly and easily over the crown.   
  
"I'm gonna come!" groaned Heero. "I can't do it -!"   
  
The 'hush' noise was soft, all around him, and he felt the agony abate a little. Duo shifted in front of him, rolling round, and lying with his back spooning into the harbour of Heero's body. Heero felt soft, thick, sweet-smelling hair against his chest, and the warmth of an ass against his groin - his slicked cock probed desperately at the crevice between Duo's buttocks. It slid across the pucker of Duo's hole; it moaned its frustration with a weeping of cum, and a particularly vicious throb of blood through the vein.   
  
"No need to rush," sighed Duo. His hips were rocking on the bed, and when Heero looked down, he could see Duo's hands reaching between his own legs, stretching to press gel-covered fingers into his ass. To prepare himself for Heero. The first man to take him.   
  
"I'll do that - " Heero gasped, and reached for the bottle himself. He dropped the lid in his impatience and nervousness - his hands were shaking, even as he lathered gel over his middle fingers.   
  
"Lie behind me, Heero," hissed Duo. "Kiss my shoulders; grip my waist with your strong hands. Lift my leg, and slide your wet fingers into me."   
  
Heero wriggled up close to him - he gripped him round the waist, and felt Duo arch up against him. He reached down and pushed Duo's upper thigh forward, so that he could slide his hand easily in between the cheeks, and probe for the gateway to his lover's body. He found it; an impossibly small, tight pucker, offering fierce resistance to him, despite the heavy coating of gel all over his hand. Duo hissed as he slipped in his middle finger - Heero felt the muscles grip him, and marvelled at how different it felt from _accepting_ fingers inside him. Like he always had. He slid another in, and began to roll them firmly - seeking to stretch the hole. But every time he withdrew his hand, he felt the entrance close behind him. He thought his nerve might fail him. Duo was panting heavily - his words were thick and guttural.   
  
"I don't want to wait any longer, Heero! I'm ready for you -! For God's sake, this is what I want - I want you inside me, possessing me. I want to be nailed hard into this bed - I want to be hammered into the mattress. Be as harsh as you like - as greedy as you desire. Fuck me, Heero -!"   
  
Heero pressed Duo's legs wider apart, and placed his fiercely swollen cock at the pink entrance. Duo groaned. Heero couldn't help the unbidden thought; Duo's ass reminded him of the raspberries in their love play! He smiled, and relaxed a little, and then he could have sworn he saw the hole flex open for a second, and swallow the smallest drop of over-eager pre-cum. He took a deep breath, gripped harder at Duo's hip, and forced the thick crown of his cock into him.   
  
Duo gasped - he thrust his hips back hard against Heero's groin, and the rest of his cock burst in smoothly.   
  
Heero sobbed! He thought he might be doing that aloud, and for that he was embarrassed - but he had never realised it could feel so good! To be buried deep in a tight, hot sheath. To have hips grinding back into him, moving in rhythm with him. He felt squeezed inside, and he also felt harboured - and incredibly stimulated. Duo's body fit snugly against his, allowing itself to be manipulated, almost passive in its acceptance, and matching Heero's awkward thrusts with graceful ones of his own - he gave little moans of encouragement. It was astonishingly erotic. Heero knew that Duo had slipped a hand to his own groin, and was pumping his cock in rhythm with their bodies' movements. Heero wanted to do that for him as well - but he didn't think he'd be able to concentrate on more than one thing at the moment.   
  
He moved slowly at first, savouring the incredible feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the tight channel; sucking its way out, tugged by the gripping muscles - then sinking eagerly back into the very depths, until he felt he was thrusting up into the heart of Duo himself. Then, encouraged by Duo's enthusiasm, he began to thrust a little more speedily. Then, as the astonishing feelings and the tight, moist heat plucked at him, he lost all sense, and he thrust like fuck -!   
  
"Heero!" groaned Duo. He rocked against Heero's body, forced to follow Heero's pace, whatever it was. "God - it's so good - can't you fuck me harder? Can't you go _deeper_ -?"   
  
Heero slammed hard against Duo's ass, so that the bed banged against the wall, and he felt the tight muscles of Duo's buttocks against his pelvis. Duo cried out, and his hand flew back and forth between his legs, thrashing his own cock to completion. Heero clutched at his waist, holding him desperately. He felt the rush of feeling race from all his extremities, down into his cock, and burst up into the writhing man underneath him. He shouted, or something. Duo's name was loud and burning and vibrantly coloured, and it filled his mind. He remembered wishing frantically that he could have made it last longer - he remembered the hot depths of Duo's flesh under his fierce fingers - and then he lost coherent thought, and he remembered nothing except the pure, glorious sensation!   
  
The voices were loud, and they cried out with the joy of it. They wailed; they panted; they screamed ugly, crude, arousing words. Hands were all over him; lips at his body, sucking and nibbling; the force of his climax was like nothing he'd ever experienced, even at Duo's hands. It was as if several bodies met; as if many climaxes converged in him.   
  
"Duo!" he cried, shuddering with the aftershocks of his coming. Still gripping the man beside him, barely conscious of the other climax, wracking Duo's body and making him shake in Heero's arms. "Wh - what is it? You're in my head - they're all in my head -"   
  
Duo groaned, and went limp against him. His hair was slicked with sweat, and clung damply to both of their upper bodies. They were both panting loudly - Heero tried, desperately, to stay hard and to stay sheathed inside his lover. But natural exhaustion was sucking the energy from him, and Duo's ass had sucked the sperm out - within seconds, his cock was soft and flaccid again, and he slid out of Duo with nothing but wet noise. Duo's hole was red, and damp, and still beautifully erotic - Heero ached with the thought that he may have hurt him. Then he ached with the desire to take him again. He just ached, he thought to himself, with an exhausted resignation.   
  
Duo's sigh was one of pure satisfaction. He turned his head back, so that Heero could see his profile, and the shine in his eyes. The muscles in his arms were shaking with the tension - his lower thigh was partly trapped under Heero's legs. As he helped him wriggle it out to freedom, Heero felt a trickle of warm, thick cum travel from between Duo's cheeks and down on to his own outstretched leg.   
  
"You hear them because we've both found our true one, Heero. They're in celebration of that! It's the only thing you could ever strive for - the only pure joy you may ever find. Nothing will ever be better than this!"   
  
And, in that instant, Heero agreed.   
  
*   
  
There were voices in his head, again... Heero could hear them. They were calling, but they weren't calling _him_. They were calling for Duo. Heero stirred, sleepily. What the fuck time was it? Why didn't Duo answer? He could feel the man's long-limbed, wiry body beside him on the bed. He felt his own cock bob gently at the remembrance. He liked this feeling; this feeling of sleeping with Duo Maxwell. And from what he could hear, Duo's breathing was heavy - it was regular. He was sound asleep.   
  
'I don't sleep much', he'd told Heero. And Heero had certainly never seen any sign of him in room 4 before this night. But the unconscious body beside him told another story. This man was exhausted; sated; blissfully asleep. Sleeping with Heero Yuy.   
  
Heero drowsed again, until the voices really did become too insistent to ignore. Then he groaned, and rolled on to his side to wake Duo.   
  
But Duo was already up. He'd pulled on his silken pants, and nothing else. His hair was caught loosely behind him; Heero saw silhouetted strands of it blowing across his face as he moved around the room.   
  
"What is it -?" he asked.   
  
"Trowa's calling," said Duo, softly. "I must go to them. They want us all to be together - to celebrate Trowa staying. Come with me, Heero. We want you with us."   
  
"God..." groaned Heero. "Can't I join in the party some other time? I need some sleep after the damned good going-over we just had -"   
  
Duo's teeth glinted in the dim light, as he smiled.   
  
Heero examined his feelings. His tiredness; his nervousness. His curiosity - his excitement. He knew which one would win.   
  
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and lifted his arms to take hold of Duo. They kissed for some time, until Heero reluctantly peeled himself away.   
  
"Throw over my shorts, then," he growled.   
  
*   
  
The others were all in the courtyard - it was as Heero expected. The night was as warm and still as the previous one - the participants were as naked as before. Naked, and gorgeous! Quatre rushed to him and Duo as they walked slowly into sight - he gave Heero's shorts the briefest of looks, then was tickling and nibbling at his waist, until Heero laughed, and surrendered, and allowed the young blond to tug them off and discard them. Quatre took his arm, and cajoled him over to the pool - with a look of rueful apology at Duo, Heero again allowed the boy to have his way.   
  
Wufei was lying nearby, on a blanket on the ground, propped up on an arm. Trowa sat in front of him, at his waist, leant back against his strong, broad hip. They were surrounded by a spread of food, and the familiar sweet, red wine. As Heero watched them, Wufei broke a pastry into pieces, and reached one up to Trowa - the chestnut-haired man opened his lips, and let Wufei press the food in. Trowa licked his lips, and smiled at the sugary taste - then he opened his mouth further, and sucked Wufei's fingertips in after it. Wufei drew in a harsh breath - his head dropped back a little, and he dragged down at Trowa's lower lip. Trowa's even, white teeth held on to the invading fingers; his own breathing was speeding up. Wufei began to pump his fingers slowly in and out of Trowa's mouth, and Trowa began panting in rhythm with it. His hand slipped to his lap - he started fondling himself. Wufei watched his hand in Trowa's mouth - he watched Trowa's flushed and excited face, as he grew more aroused. When they caught each other's gaze, they smiled with genuine pleasure.   
  
Heero stared at them, marvelling at their easy familiarity with each other. He'd never raised a smile like that in Trowa, not even during sex play. It had always been so serious...the man continued to amaze him.   
  
Then Quatre dragged him down into the pool, and for a while he had nothing to concern him but to splash and roll in the warm, comforting water.   
  
*   
  
Duo had come to sit beside Heero, perched on the low wall of the pool. He was naked, too, now, the silk pants having gone the way of every other piece of clothing that Heero had ever come into contact with here. Heero lay back, his arms against the shelf, and let the small ripples lap at his body.   
  
"See how good it is, Heero," murmured Duo. There was the slightest edge to his tone, as if he beseeched Heero to understand; and only Heero would have heard it. "It is a feast - for you. For us all. A feast of all the best things in life. You can have whatever you want... _whom_ ever you want."   
  
"I want _you_ ," hissed Heero, and his wet arm reached up to grasp Duo by the neck, and pull his body down to him. Fierce lips sought each other out - water ran carelessly over Duo's arms and torso, as Heero embraced him. Laughing, Duo slid over the wall and into the pool, alongside Heero.   
  
"So do I, Heero - I want you, too -"   
  
" _Only_ you -!" gasped Heero, almost fiercely.   
  
Duo paused for the slightest of times, so that it was barely noticeable. When he replied, his voice was very soft - he sounded slightly amazed. "Only _you_... yes..."   
  
Then there was another splash, and suddenly Quatre darted quickly across the pool, dipping under the water, and tangling in between their legs. There was little room for all three of them. Heero protested, and then he felt the boy's face against his groin, and the soft plumpness of his lips around his bobbing cock. He gasped - he snatched at Duo's arms, and stared up at him, his mouth framing his protest, even as the lips under the water sucked and tugged at him, and weightless fingers cupped and caressed his balls. But Duo smiled back - a faint mistiness about his eyes made Heero suspect that Quatre was busy about his body, too. Duo wound his arms around Heero's torso, and drew him in for another kiss.   
  
Heero twisted to face Duo, and felt the wriggling underwater baby release his cock. And then a hand took its place - a hand that grasped him, and held him just where he felt most sensitive, and began to stroke him, down to the base of his cock, and up again to the tip, where the disturbed ripples of the water ebbed in and out of his slit. A hand that dragged his body even closer - that insisted he press against the body that directed it.   
  
"Duo..." he sighed. They were both wet all over, now - they were wrapped around each other, and Heero's hand struggled to reach around Duo's ass, to caress him in return. His cock was swelling almost painfully, under the water. He dropped his head to suckle at Duo's neck, and then his hand slipped between the other man's legs, and he slid a finger into him. Duo gasped, and Heero's tongue plunged further into his open mouth.   
  
Another splash, and Quatre crested the water, head reaching up for air, and water streaming from him like a leaping fish.   
  
"Duo! Heero!" he cried, almost petulantly, as if he were annoyed that they enjoyed themselves without him. "I cannot fit any part of me between you - and I'm more proud of my figure than that!" They barely acknowledged him, and a flash of some emotion more adult passed over his face. He lifted himself easily out of the water, and began to shake off the excess - he was stretching his body, to ease his cramped muscles. He did, indeed, have a beautiful build - boyish, yet with developing muscles that gave him a breadth and a shape to his torso that promised strength and agility. And his profile was most prominent - his cock reared happily up from the damp, blond hairs of his groin. The fondling of both men under water had been _very_ stimulating -!   
  
"You should be very proud of _that_ \- " murmured Trowa, at his ear. His hand slipped to Quatre's waist, and then round to caress the wet shaft.   
  
Quatre moaned gently, and allowed the touch. His legs parted a little - he turned his head to accept Trowa's hungry kiss. But as he did, he called softly to Duo, standing in the pool, clasped in Heero's embrace. "You are our master, Duo, aren't you? This is all for you..." Trowa's mouth was busy on his nipples - Wufei's hands had appeared at his ass, to dry his body with a thick towel, and to massage in some sweet smelling oil. "You won't leave us, will you, Duo?"   
  
He turned away, with just the trail of a cry, melting into the arms of the others.   
  
"Will you?"   
  
*   
  
Heero felt the eddy of the water around him, as Duo grasped his hips, and twisted him hard, face forward, against the side of the pool. He threw out his hands, and grabbed the edge of the wall. Under the water, he felt Duo's erect cock press at his buttocks - he felt Duo's thigh nudge between his own, and force his legs further apart. Everything was cool and smooth under the water - Duo's limbs felt much like his own. There was a lightness of their bodies, and the gentle pressure of the water as it moved on its own course, tugging their bodies with it. Despite this, he responded immediately to the feel of Duo's fingers at his opening - he relaxed himself, and he bent at the waist, offering himself to his lover. There was another swirl of water around their legs, and the sharp delight of Duo's teeth at his shoulder. Then the thick, hungry cock pressed into him, and he cried out with the force.   
  
"Duo -! Christ, that's - fuck me, Duo! Yes, I - _shit_!"   
  
Duo had grabbed him around the waist, and spun him away from the wall again. Still impaled on his cock, Heero leant back into Duo's lap, and bent his legs to try to keep his balance. Duo spun him again, and then again, until he was pressed against the wall himself. He thrust up into Heero, and the angle was such that he struck at Heero's prostate with every stroke; Heero cried out aloud with the pleasure. He reached down to rub at his own cock - his hands splashed near the surface of the water, and he sprayed them both as he pumped. Then, suddenly, his hands still tight on Heero's body, Duo dipped down further into the pool, and Heero found himself entirely underwater. Shocked - unprepared - he started to splutter and panic, but still he felt the thrusts of Duo's cock up into him, and for a second he contemplated relaxing, and letting the water into his body, just so that he could continue to feel such an astounding moment.   
  
But that wasn't Duo's intention - he whipped them both up to the refreshing air, within seconds. He was still panting, still hammering into Heero, with increasing force and desperation. He bent him back down against the wall, he took his stand behind him, and this time they stayed there.   
  
"Heero, I'm coming..." he gasped, dropping heavily on to Heero's bent back; Heero felt the ripples of his climax approaching, right up inside his ass. He reached back, and grabbed at Duo's heavy, wet hair, and dragged his lover's head down against his back. The two of them gripped each other, and clung to each other, as they groaned and pumped, and spewed their completion - Duo into Heero's ass, and Heero out into the thrashing, churning water around them.   
  
It was the first climax of many.   
  
*   
  
The night was very dark now, and only a few candles under the trees gave the young men light to see what they did. Instead, they used their hands, and their mouths, and they were never misguided.   
  
Heero sat alone on a bench, his hair still damp, his lips moistened with water and ice cubes, and slices of fresh apple, that had never tasted so vibrant on his tongue before. He needed a rest, for his body that had been so used by Duo Maxwell's; he needed to gather his thoughts, that had been similarly twisted and enmeshed with Duo's mind.   
  
The tableau unfolded in front of him.   
  
Quatre stood, the shortest of them all, leant over the bench, hands against the wall. His legs were wide apart - his head dropped spasmodically, as his breathing sped up. Behind him, Trowa had his hands round his waist and his mouth at the boy's shoulder blades. Trowa's legs were inside of Quatre's - his buttocks were close up against his soft, pale ass. They writhed and jerked together - it was obvious that Trowa was fucking him. Trowa pulled out slowly, steadily - then thrust back in so that Quatre gasped with the force.   
  
Then Wufei was behind Trowa, stroking his back, his cheeks - playing with his ass. Heero watched his fingers part Trowa's buttocks - the obvious insertion of two glistening fingers into his hole. And in response, Trowa bent his ass back towards Wufei, bringing Quatre up on to his toes in front of him. Then he bent forward again, plunging deeply into Quatre; and he set up a slow, rocking motion that pivoted him back and forth, between fucking Quatre, and forcing his ass back on to Wufei's tantalising fingers.   
  
And Trowa moaned a request that Heero had never heard him make - a request to be taken.   
  
Wufei stepped up close behind him. His cock was large and proudly erect, and his hand took hold of Trowa's ass with a proprietary touch. For a second, though, he paused, as if unsure how to join the couple and their rocking, erotic dance - as if he were reluctant to disturb the rhythm.   
  
Then Duo was beside him, tall and slender, but with a confidence in his bearing that drew Heero's gaze, even if he hadn't been fascinated by every move that the man ever made. Duo was murmuring encouragement into Wufei's neck, reaching up to lick at his earlobe, fondly; softly. Heero stared, as Duo took hold of Wufei's cock with one hand, and then reached to part Trowa's buttocks with the other. Wufei's head went back with Duo's sensual attack on his face and neck, at the same time as his hips went forward with Duo's masterful hand. He was guided into Trowa, just as Trowa's body leant back from a long, leisurely thrust into Quatre. Heero saw Duo watching closely - watching Wufei's cock burst past Trowa's eager, yet tight muscle, and Heero saw his hands remaining on Wufei as the threesome leant forward again, with Quatre at the front. The rhythm continued, but with three of them joined now. Wufei gasped with the tight embrace of Trowa's ass; Trowa groaned with the fresh invasion, and the joy of his lover inside him; and Quatre moaned with the delight of hosting the two of them.   
  
And Duo stepped behind Wufei, looked up with lids heavy with lust, and stared at Heero.   
  
_Desire is strong, Heero...a beast not easily killed... nor tamed_....   
  
Heero was rigid on the bench, knowing what he was watching - knowing what this evening might bring. The men were all fantastic - he knew that, of course. Each of them... He had been Trowa's lover; and he knew that Quatre lusted after him. He believed that Wufei would be a spectacular lover. And he had known Duo Maxwell in a way that he'd never thought possible outside of dreams. He could still feel the evidence of Duo's ecstasy on his lips, from only minutes ago, when he had knelt at his feet as he sat on the bench, and sucked him off again. Almost aimlessly, he reached a hand up, and wiped at his lips. The moisture there may have been water, or fruit juice, or Duo's cum. He licked at whatever was there, savouring it. He looked back at Duo, and felt the man calling to him. He could feel them all tonight - their clamouring cries; their desperate needs and desires.   
  
They were all one in him.   
  
He knew how he felt. _What_ he felt.   
  
"Duo!" His voice rang out in the quiet courtyard, where for several minutes there had been only whimpers and moans. "I - don't want to share you! Do you understand?"   
  
The gasps and the groans were silenced - the humping bodies slowed. The air seemed more still than ever before; even the water was silent against the bricks of the pool walls.   
  
"Is this all there is?" cried Heero, and his voice sounded desperate, even to himself.   
  
"Is this all there is?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by FancyFigures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero stood in the dry morning air, and stared at the car.   
  
It was very early, still. He wore the pants that he'd worn when he first arrived here, and a simple vest. He carried his travelling bag beside him, and now he yanked the car door open with a yawning creak, and tossed it inside on to the back seat. The door slammed back shut, and the tired old vehicle shuddered on the ground beneath it.   
  
Heero stared some more.   
  
The delivery guy had never come. The delivery guy was never _gonna_ come, was he? Or perhaps he'd already been, and yet his visit had been hidden. Heero felt that many things were becoming more clear to him. And yet - many other things were more confused.   
  
He didn't know anything about cars, he knew that!   
  
His mind tugged at him, demanding that he remember the man he'd just left in Room 4. The man who'd taken him away from the courtyard last night, after his sudden outburst. The man who'd hushed him, and reassured him, and in whose eyes he thought he'd seen an answering warmth and tentative devotion. A match to his own, overwhelming passion. A meeting of minds and - perhaps - the beginning of a commitment. Then Duo Maxwell had wrapped his body around him, and kissed him; surrounding him, yet again, with the thoughts and physically ecstatic feelings of lovemaking; and the moment had passed. They had shouted into each other's bodies, never seemingly sated; they had clung on to each other; Heero knew he'd sobbed again. Then Duo had laughed with satisfied joy, and wiped sweat from their bodies with a clean towel, and fallen into an exhausted sleep beside Heero. All night.   
  
There had been no more talk of Heero's ideas and wants.   
  
Heero believed that there may never be the chance again. He had been effectively - albeit deliciously - distracted. He thought that, in his outburst, he'd spoken the real truth - that's all there was, here. That's all there was, for him and Duo. The luscious, sexual chemistry. The lovemaking - the anguish.   
  
That's all there'd ever be.   
  
Even now, he wanted him. Heero thought that he'd probably always want him. There was no-one in the world like Duo Maxwell. Not for him, anyway.   
  
The time had come for another escape, he thought. A bitter one; already regretted.   
  
*   
  
He was aware of the other person at the motel door behind him, before the figure spoke.   
  
"Heero?"   
  
Heero let out the breath that he was holding, and his body relaxed a little. At the same time, a thread of pain snagged across his expression. But when he turned to reply, his face was impassive again.   
  
"Quatre..."   
  
The blond boy was only a metre away from him - Heero hadn't heard his footsteps on the dusty ground as he approached. He wore the same denim shorts that had first greeted Heero when he and Trowa arrived at the motel, and the same thin shirt - unbuttoned, as before. He looked cool and fresh, and yet sinfully ready for whatever fun may be on offer. His usual attire, of course. He saw Heero's eyes flicker up and down his body, and he raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Yeah - sorry. It's me. Not Duo Maxwell. Big disappointment, eh? You were expecting him."   
  
Heero knew that Quatre was in his mind. He could feel him - teasing; provoking. He was trying to seduce him, as always. Sending the hot, lusty thoughts that rippled through Heero's veins, and tented his own pants. But there were other things there, now, that had been hidden before. There was a maturity that Heero would never have suspected of the frivolous boy.   
  
Perhaps Quatre was something more than he seemed. Perhaps it was just that Heero could see so much more, now, himself.   
  
"You left him sleeping, I see," murmured Quatre. His voice was sultry, but there was an edge of tightness that jarred. As if his role confused him, temporarily. "He never heard you get up... never felt your plans..."   
  
"Plans?"   
  
"Cut the crap, Heero!" snapped Quatre, and Heero was startled. The boy's eyes flashed with something other than careless lust. "I can _see_ you, can't I? I know why you're here this morning, staring at this heap of mechanical shit. I know what you want, and what you _don't_ want! Your scene last night in the courtyard - do you think that only Duo heard you? That only Duo would care to listen?"   
  
Heero didn't deny it. He asked, instead, "How do you _see_ me, Quatre? Duo has never explained it satisfactorily."   
  
Quatre shrugged, but it was a poor pretence at insouciance. "It's something about this place, Heero. Though I guess we all have a talent for it, initially - a sensitivity towards others. Praps that's why we've been the ones to stay, rather than the many others... When we're here, we can listen to others; feel their feelings; hear their thoughts. We can come and go with a measure of illusion. And that means - of course - we can have total freedom."   
  
"Freedom?"   
  
Quatre didn't reply, directly. His eyes clouded over, as if he no longer saw Heero clearly. "It's because we harbour pain, Heero - the freedom is a warped kind of compensation for the lives we have all run from. Lives of frustration; misery; abuse, in many cases."   
  
"I - see now..." said Heero, haltingly.   
  
Quatre smiled, but with less than his usual mischief. He seemed strangely different this morning; he seemed older, somehow. "You have the same affinity, Heero Yuy. But to a far greater extent than any of us. You are a rare treasure. Trowa has the feeling, true - but you are something else. You have the power to influence us far more than you think."   
  
"Me? I don't think -"   
  
Quatre's voice was lower than Heero had ever heard it, even in passion. "You have influence over Duo Maxwell. You are leading him away."   
  
Heero stared. He felt waves of pain from the boy that he'd never thought to experience - waves of an aggression that almost scared him.   
  
"He was meant to be _my_ true one, Heero! But you've weakened him. You've distracted him. And now you're going to leave!"   
  
*   
  
The air was sharp and bright and very still. Pregnant with words that were going to be spoken, even if they mapped out a path that would never allow a turning back.   
  
"Leave?" said Heero, softly. "But I never said I would stay, Quatre."   
  
The blond grimaced. He slid a hand against his chest - touching himself; pinching at a small, brown nipple, almost aimlessly. Heero wasn't fooled - he knew the technique. He felt the soft stirrings in his groin, but he ignored them.   
  
"Maxwell thinks you are staying. He'll say it, himself, Heero - you can never leave!"   
  
"I won't accept that," sighed Heero. He felt the tendrils of Quatre's touch creep away from his limbs. The faint aftertaste of disappointment. The sun was hot on his head and shoulders, but he didn't move away from his position beside the car. It seemed important to stand his ground. He felt a trickle of moisture down between his shoulder blades - the atmosphere was very reminiscent of the day he arrived. But now he was so very different - now he had burdens in his heart that were almost too heavy to carry.   
  
"The car, Quatre -"   
  
"Christ, you _know_ about the car, don't you?" groaned the boy. His bare toes almost stamped on the ground - his body tensed with anger. "So don't play games with me! It's been OK all along - well, driveable, at least. It ain't no Formula One, eh? But it never needed any serious fixing - never needed Wufei's skills. And you know that - I can feel that you do. It was all just -"   
  
"Illusion?" whispered Heero, remembering Quatre's earlier words.   
  
Quatre nodded, reluctantly.   
  
"Yours?"   
  
Then Quatre laughed. "No! So you don't see _everything_ , do you? It wasn't my doing - or Duo's. Who do you think wanted it to be so - wanted it so much that the illusion was cast? Who wanted Wufei's skills for himself? Albeit in a very different kind of _mechanics_..."   
  
"Trowa?" asked Heero, though even as he spoke, he realised that it was true. Perhaps his lover had wished it on them subconsciously - but he had been the one to discover the state of the car; to discover that they were stranded here for the time being; who was offered the chance to work around the place, and become close to the inhabitants here. And accepted that offer.   
  
Trowa had brought them here, and Trowa had kept them here. Until he found his own place. Ironically, that had also been here.   
  
"Illusion," sighed Quatre. He walked up to Heero, and his hand reached out to stroke the dark-haired man's side. Heero felt the soft fingers on his muscles; he felt the desire flow into him like slow, sticky treacle. "Like a lot of things here. I wanted to feel you inside me, Heero Yuy. I still do. You just need to relax, y'know? Enjoy some more of us. Have Duo, by all means, but sample the rest of us as well. You can have days and nights of it - your skin, sweaty and sticking to mine; your fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my head up and down on your cock; my legs wrapped around you, my ass offered up to you. Your cock, thrusting hard into me, deep and furious, claiming it all, tight, and hot, and racing towards an ecstasy that will never be withheld from you -"   
  
Heero was giddy. Heero's body wanted it all - he'd be mad not to! And yet -   
  
"I want to go, Quatre. I want a life outside of here. And I want Duo to come with me."   
  
Quatre's breath rasped suddenly - a harsh, painful catch that sounded like the slice of a blade on the white heat of the sun. Heero felt his answering silence like a blow.   
  
"You'll - look after Trowa -?"   
  
Quatre snapped back, impatiently. "Trowa will be fine with us! He was always going to be. Wufei cares for him. We all care for each other, that's always been the way -"   
  
"Thanks," said Heero, simply.   
  
Quatre threw his hands up in some frustration. "Go, Heero! Go - go quickly - but just you!"   
  
"No," Heero struggled with the words, because his throat felt suddenly tight. "I - must ask him. Duo. Give him the chance..."   
  
"But that's only what _you_ want, Heero, isn't it? You want to go on to something you know so little about - a world of too-expensive apartments, and boring jobs, and crap cars, and the endlessly, mindlessly ringing 'phones. Of noise, and pain, and responsibility, and other people's misery -"   
  
Heero stopped him with a hand on his arm. "A world of other people's lives, Quatre! Other ideas - other opinions. A world of pictures, and books, and shows, and conversations, and arguments, and things to create, and problems to solve, and conflicts to challenge -"   
  
" _Christ_..." moaned Quatre, but his voice was a little less sure. He shook off Heero's hand. "So if that's what you want, just get the fuck off out there, OK?"   
  
"Not yet."   
  
"Don't tell me it's for him!" cried Quatre, his voice suddenly raised in passion. "That you hesitate only because of _him_!"   
  
Heero stood still - he could sense the shadow in the doorway behind them both, more easily than he could see it. The morning sun threw the whole porch into shade.   
  
"I can't keep him," sighed Quatre. It was almost a sob. "Not if you want him. Not if he wants you in return. And no-one can be forced to stay, against their will." He stared up at Heero, his eyes full of confrontation. "But it must be his choice, Heero! And you can't offer him what we have here! The security that he's always had here!"   
  
"I'd offer him something different," said Heero, quietly. He didn't need strong words - his mind spoke for him. His emotions spoke for him. He just wasn't sure who was listening.   
  
"He thinks you're his true one," said Quatre, sadly. "That's the strongest time - when the two true ones meet each other. If that's the case - this is his most vulnerable time."   
  
"I don't want to hurt him, Quatre..."   
  
"But you have! He is _less_ already!" flared back the boy. His pale blue eyes flashed sharply - his hair shone white-blond in the early sunlight. "Haven't you seen it? He's not so close to us - he doesn't feel us so deeply anymore. You've weakened him, Heero Yuy. He'd be a fool to go with you, anywhere! Just go, now -"   
  
Heero persisted - he tried to reach the boy's mind, but he didn't have the control of this _affinity_ he was supposed to have. And he suspected that Quatre was less of a naïf than anyone had ever been led to believe. " _Can_ he leave, Quatre?"   
  
The boy pouted at him, and wouldn't answer. "He needs me, Heero, don't you see? He thinks I'm just a child who depends on him - but it's much the opposite. He needs me - I feed him the adulation he craves. I love him...   
  
"Do you, too?" he almost wailed. "Do you love him so much that you'd serve him every day - with everything he wants?"   
  
And then Duo himself stepped out from the doorway, and walked towards them across the front yard.   
  
*   
  
He and Heero stared at each other for several seconds. Heero thought of his last touch - the cries of pleasure and sensuality in the small hours of the morning. He saw Duo flush.   
  
"I - have to go, Duo."   
  
"So it seems." Duo's voice was very calm. Frighteningly so.   
  
"Come with me, Duo!" Heero urged. He felt the man's stillness like a blanket of chilling, inviolable fog. He believed that Duo was shielding himself from him.   
  
"I - understand what this place means to you. And - like - perhaps you're not gonna get so much peace with me!" he joked. His voice trembled a little, and he cursed it. "But there are other things out there, y'know? Other ways to go. Other ambitions - other dreams. I have lots of 'em, Duo. I have more than I can use here; more than I can contain here. You said it... a - decision has gotta be made."   
  
"You can't leave," said Duo, slowly, as if the words were being dragged out of him.   
  
"You said you were between places," argued Heero. He wanted to touch Duo - he wanted to touch his body, hidden under the thin vest and pants that he wore. Last time Heero had seen him, Duo had been stretched out on their bed; a tumbled, tousled, tasty cocktail of naked limbs, and skin flushed with sleep and the aftermath of sex. But now - now, he looked uncomfortable in the clothes. Heero wanted, above everything else, to make him comfortable. "Come over to mine! Come and try this way with me!"   
  
He saw the shiver of Duo's eyelids - the hesitation in his body. There had been words last night, as well as touch - there had been times that Heero thought he had reached him. Tempted him...persuaded him. He wished he could feel more sure of Duo; he wished he knew him better. He wished they had more _time_...   
  
" _Duo_ \- I don't want to stay any longer. I - can't explain it well; but I feel that if I don't go now..." He didn't dare finish the sentence. "Look - come with me, and we can find out some more about you, perhaps - help you remember, if that's what you want. Help you find a security in yourself, wherever you might be. You can be yourself, with me - wherever we go! Wherever we stay...it's what I want."   
  
"You can't leave..."   
  
Heero felt a desperate, miserable anger growing in him. His voice grew in volume. "You said you were here of your own choice - well, so am I! And I choose to leave. If you can't see your way out to something beyond your own personal sexual empire, well that's your loss, OK? I want to travel, and find out stuff, and do all the things that've been denied me all these years - because I want to control my own life! Christ, Duo - I want you so bad that my whole body aches when you're around! I want to find out everything about you - I want to take the adventures with you. I wanna do it all with _you_..."   
  
He touched him, then. He couldn't resist any more. He stepped forward, and grasped at the arm that hung by Duo's side. An electric shock coursed through him - a pain and joy of astonishing intensity flared through his mind like fireworks. He gasped aloud.   
  
"I've never met a man like you, Duo!" he groaned. "I've never wanted someone as much as I want you. Never wanted to share it all in this way - never thought I'd find someone I wanted to take inside me. And _not_ just in bed..." His smile didn't reach his eyes - it was sadly rueful. He'd seen the sudden flame in Duo's eyes, and knew that his words were being listened to. But there'd been no response that might have comforted him.   
  
Duo's voice was low, and carried a shiver that was so much more than seduction. "Stay with me, Heero."   
  
"I can't."   
  
"Sleep with me. Be with me. You can never leave, Heero..."   
  
"No..." Heero was shaking his head, his expression twisting towards pure agony. "You just don't understand, do you? _I_ will be able to leave but you - you, Duo Maxwell - it looks like you never can! And that bothers me - so very much more." His hand fell back from Duo's arm.   
  
"Heero -?" Duo's voice was almost puzzled. "Stay with me, Heero."   
  
But Heero was backing away, a look of increasing desolation and shock on his face. He grabbed out at the car door handle like a drowning man reaching for driftwood. He looked like he was just realising he'd lost a thousand lotteries, all rolled into one.   
  
"I - I can't, Duo. _Holy God_..."   
  
It was like a sob from him. He wrenched open the door, and slung himself in. Duo didn't move any further towards him.   
  
"Nothing will ever be this good again, Heero!" he suddenly cried. "In all of your life! Not without me - not apart... You know that!"   
  
Like fuck I do! groaned Heero, to himself. "Like fuck I do!" he shouted out of the window that was stuck permanently half-open. He turned the key - the engine shuddered and spat. He turned it again, furious with the delay, and the ignition caught. He ground it into gear - he spun the wheel viciously, intending to drive it right round and out of the yard at speed.   
  
The cloud of dust that followed his pathetic gesture wasn't large enough to obscure the two men, watching him go. He saw them through the windscreen - he saw them in the rear mirror, growing steadily smaller. He saw Duo wherever he looked.   
  
He thought he probably always would.   
  
*   
  
Quatre moved to stand beside Duo. They stared together at the retreating wheels of the car. They spoke in a strange half-conversation - they understood too well each other's thoughts.   
  
"Quatre -?"   
  
Quatre shook his head, impatiently. "Yes. I know. I feel it, too. I feel _you_."   
  
"You, though..."   
  
"For God's sake! I'll be fine," sighed the blond. "Of course."   
  
"And the others -?"   
  
"They'll still have me. We are enough, together. And there'll be others to join us, now and then. Like Trowa Barton has."   
  
"I'm sorry..."   
  
"There's nothing to be sorry about, dammit!" Quatre calmed his voice, and smiled his rueful smile. He ran one hand through his short blond locks, whilst the other strayed absent-mindedly to his crotch. Trowa was stirring for the morning - he could feel the man's sleepy desire as he woke. He could feel it very deeply - deep between his thighs. And so would Wufei...   
  
The ache needed easing. He stretched a little, unconsciously preening himself.   
  
"It's fate, Maxwell. A true one will find another. Yeah? Far be it from me to stand in its way."   
  
Duo's hand moved slightly, and Quatre shivered. He'd miss it, sorely. The attention from that man...   
  
"Heero's memories..."   
  
Quatre shrugged. "He'll remember what you want him to. What you both want him to. His awareness will diminish, the further he is from here. Though you - I don't know about you, Duo. You may remember what you've forgotten - you may not. You have always been different...I cannot anticipate you so well as I do the others. But it will be your choice. And you can both find your own alibis, OK?"   
  
"The car -?"   
  
"Damn car!" grinned Quatre, shrugging with mock despair. "Heap of junk isn't likely to make it to the next track without needing to be kick-started! He'll be stuck there for an hour or more, I reckon. Anyone walking out from here could be there in twenty minutes. No... it's gonna be a long - and slow - journey, before precious Mr Heero Yuy gets back out on the highway..."   
  
*********************************************   
  
Epilogue...   
  
  
The heat was climbing higher than ever, and inside the car it was almost intolerable. The air conditioning wheezed and coughed, but provided no air at all; a haze of hot air blew back from the engine periodically, stifling the driver and passenger. It shuddered over the track - it spat venom out of the exhaust. It threatened every fifteen minutes to stop and leave them wherever it chose; they could believe it was that malevolent.   
  
"There's nowhere for miles," hissed the young, dark-haired driver. He slung a crumpled, half-torn map towards the passenger beside him. "We're gonna have to stop soon - I'm exhausted. This track is like driving through lumpy treacle. My head feels like a lead weight - I can't focus properly in this glare -"   
  
"Keep going a little longer," came the soft reply. "We can make the city by tomorrow if we keep going. There'll be motels nearer the outskirts of town."   
  
The driver was still fractious. "Where did you say we had to take that turning? Have we missed it already?"   
  
"No," came a laugh beside him. "No - it's up ahead. Half a mile, then look for a track to the right. You know your left from your right, trailer boy?"   
  
The driver looked swiftly across. And grinned, almost despite himself. As always, the sight of the man beside him brought a heady mixture of both calm and excitement to him. He thanked his lucky stars on an hourly basis that he was travelling with Duo - that his escape was with the very man that he wanted to spend every minute with. That he adored beyond reason. That he couldn't wait to get into a room in the city, and tumble into bed with! They'd lie in their underwear, sharing a beer, and watching bright, flickering neon lights through the window; listening to the noise and calls on the street, and marking possible jobs in the local paper. Until one or other of them - or both! - would get tired of the delay, and reach a hungry hand into that very underwear, and they'd cling together on that bed, grabbing and gasping, and fucking without fear of -   
  
What?   
  
Sometimes he forgot exactly what they were escaping from. It was an odd feeling. But then he'd touch Duo, and maybe kiss him, and maybe touch the teasing bulge in his pants - and then the feelings would ease.   
  
Sometimes he had flashes in his mind of another man - another chestnut head, that brought some strangely familiar memories to him. But they slipped away like ice through his fingers - and the slight discomfort that the memories brought were always assuaged when he looked at his companion.   
  
Whatever there had been in the past, it had never been this right.   
  
"You're saying we ain't lost?" he grinned.   
  
"That's it!" grinned Duo Maxwell, in reply. "We ain't lost! Just take a right, Heero - and we're just about there!"   
  
end


End file.
